Star Seeker: Book 1
by Enya of Beanntan de Teine
Summary: Adena always dreamed of becoming a Dragon Rider, but Alagaesia is not the same land that it was. When, against all odds, her dream finally comes true, she discovers that fantasy is quite different from reality. And when calamity befalls the order, Adena and her dragon, Eistir, must embark on a journey to save their home and their people.
1. The Warrior

The wind howled across the desolate plain, but the tall warrior stood strong. It was wearing armour of a higher quality than any common foot soldier would be able to acquire. The sword, too, was of good quality. The warrior obviously knew how to handle it. This was quite clear to the soldier that was kneeling, trembling, on the ground before the warrior's feet. He had experienced the warrior's skill in swordsmanship first hand only a few moments before.

"I hear that you were among the soldiers King Cadeyrn sent with that explorer, to try and discover the mysteries of the West. I also hear that he discovered something, but refused to tell anyone. From what I've heard, he killed any of the soldiers who would tell the King. In fact, you are the only one who swore to keep it a secret. The explorer was executed by the King when he wouldn't reveal what he had discovered, but you escaped." The wind screamed at full fury, almost drowning out the warrior's words. But the voice was strong and commanding, and managed to carry over the hurricane.

"N-no," the soldier protested desperately. "Th-that wasn't m-me! I swear, I didn't have anything to d-do with it! You have the wrong man! P-please, spare me!"

The helmet prevented the soldier from seeing it, but the warrior smiled. A mocking smile, as if the warrior feared nothing and no one. The warrior was not swayed by the soldier's begging. If fact, it made the armoured figure contemptuous.

"As I thought. Too afraid to defend yourself. A coward in armour. Do you think that carrying a sword makes you brave? You may have seen a little battle, but you remain a coward. A coward, a betrayer, and a liar. And it makes me sick." The soldier cried out in fear, pleading for forgiveness. The warrior kicked him in the stomach, silencing him. "I'm not going to spare your life. You don't deserve to live. But I can think of some _very_ nasty ways to kill you. Very nasty, and really quite creative. Some say that I have a gift. But I may be lenient and give you a quick and painless death, which you hardly deserve. But only if you tell me _exactly_ what you found in the West. I want to know every detail, and if I think that you might have excluded something…. Well, I'm sure that I'll find some creative death for you."

The soldier began to sob in earnest. The warrior was completely right; he was a coward. "No! I'll tell you! Look, it was nothing worth seeking! Some small empire, mostly humans. There were some other creatures. Elves, dwarves, and some form of Doxralac. They called them Urgals, and they were hideous. Big creatures with horns. There were dragons, though not quite as many as there are here. A few other odds and ends here and there, but nothing worth seeking!"

"If that's true," the warrior hissed, "Why did the explorer go to such lengths to keep it from King Cadeyrn?" Obviously thinking that the soldier was lying, or at least withholding details, the warrior increased the pressure on the tip of the sword against the soldier's neck.

The tears ran down the soldier's face. "I swear, I don't know! Maybe the explorer found something, or knew something that I didn't! He just told us that we had to keep it from the King at all costs! Maybe he thought that King Cadeyrn would attack them in an attempt to take over! Please, have mercy, have mercy!"

The warrior stabbed the soldier through the neck. The soldier gasped, struggling to draw breath, before collapsing onto the ground. Blood began to form in a pool around him. The warrior glanced at the corpse contemptuously. After wiping the sword clean on the soldier's tunic, the warrior turned to face West, across the windswept plains.

The warrior removed the helmet as it stared across the plains. A long mane of red hair was released, swirling wildly around the warrior's head in the fearsome gale. The warrior's green eyes blazed fiercely. She sheathed her sword, still not taking her eyes off the Western horizon.

"Soon," she whispered to the wind. "Soon I will find you again, sister. I am getting closer. Whoever stole you may have thought it safe to hide you in that Western land. But I will find you. I swear it to the stars above."


	2. Adena

As the warrior stared west across the plains, another girl was staring east, across the hills of her farm. Her eyes sought something else, however. Not her sister, but her friend. Clara had gone out to pick flowers again that morning. Adena always worried about her. Clara might be the prettiest girl in town, but she wasn't the strongest. She was clever enough, but it did often seem that she lacked in common sense.

Strictly speaking, you could say that Adena and Clara were sisters. Adopted sisters, anyway. But they had never felt themselves to be sisters, just as neither had ever really felt that the couple that raised them were their parents. Both were orphans, abandoned in the village.

Adena had been brought to the village by a strange man. He had said very little. He asked that someone take in the baby he had brought with him, and explained that he was going off to war, and was unlikely to return alive. Eventually, Leary and Morna had agreed to take the baby, for they had no children of their own. The only other thing that the man had said before departing was that the child was to be named Adena.

It was very odd. The man and his daughter had been the talk of the village for months after he left. There were plenty of theories as to why he had left the baby, for no one believed his story. Why would they? He claimed to be fighting in a war, but there was no war to fight in in Alagaesia. He had been lying, and the villagers could talk of nothing else, for it was by far the most interesting thing ever to happen in the tiny village. Clara's discovery caused almost as much talk.

Clara was discovered alone in a field, swaddled in a coarse blanket. Morna and Leary agreed to take her in as well, though they told the rest of the village very sternly that she was the _last_ orphan they would accept. The couple had no intention of becoming the village orphanage. As Clara grew up, the villagers grew to suspect that she had elven blood in her veins. Not much, for she had no magic, nor extraordinary strength or speed. But she was remarkably beautiful, far more beautiful than any child in town. With her long auburn hair, large grey eyes, and perfect complexion, she was the envy of every girl in town.

Adena did not really envy her friend. She herself was no particular beauty, though she was not ugly either. With black hair that seemed to have a bluish tinge to it in the right light and blue eyes that seemed to glow in the dark, she was considered rather odd, both in appearance and personality. Adena was not like the other girls in the village. She never fawned over a handsome lad. She never whispered and gossiped with friends about the other people in the village. She never fretted about her appearance or dreamed about pretty dresses.

Adena had a very different dream, one that was highly discourages among girls. She wanted to be a Dragon Rider. She dreamed of setting right the wrongs of the world, of touching the sky from dragonback. Adena wanted to have a dragon to be her constant companion, somebody that truly understood everything about her. She was very close to Clara, but it often seemed to Adena that Clara didn't really understand. Clara was like a child, looking up to her adopted sister and following her every move. Clara could see no fault in her idol.

The thing that troubled Adena was that her dream was impossible. There was nothing she wanted more, but it seemed that she was doomed to fail. Strictly speaking, girls were allowed to become Dragon Riders. But humans frowned upon it. Not just humans either, but Dwarves and Urgals as well. The Elves didn't care, but Adena wasn't an elf. Girls who tried to touch a dragon egg in the traditional way that Riders were chosen were chased away. Men would throw rocks and insults after them, and the girls were disgraced forever.

There were four female Dragon Riders. An Urgal, a Dwarf, and two humans. In three of the cases, the girls had disguised themselves as boys, and by the time they were discovered they were already bound to the dragon in the egg. In the Dwarf's case, she had not been forced to hide. The small community she had lived in had been far more accepting than most.

Adena wanted nothing more than to follow in their footsteps. She knew that even if she managed to pull off a decent disguise, there was only the minutest possibility that she might be chosen. Yet, despite the improbability of the whole thing, she couldn't help dreaming. To make it even more unlikely, it seemed impossible that a dragon egg would ever be brought to her tiny village.

At least, it used to seem impossible. A week ago, Adena had discovered that an egg was being brought to Targivan, which was the name of her village. Adena lived about an hour's walk from the village, in a tiny valley. The village itself was nestled against the sheer cliffs of the Spine Mountains. Close by, an ancient Rider's watchpost clung stubbornly to the side of the mountain. It was because of that watchpost that the egg was being brought to Targivan. The Riders planned to rebuild the tower, and thought it only fair to give the villagers living directly beneath it a chance, if only as compensation for the livestock that the dragons were sure to eat once they arrived.

Adena had been dreaming about disguising herself and being chosen by the dragon when she had noticed that Clara was gone. The naive girl often left to get flowers in the morning. It was her belief that if she brought a bouquet of flowers to everyone that was kind to her, people would be kinder to each other. While it _did_ made everyone happy, it put Clara in danger. Urgals were no longer a problem, as they had been 150 years ago, before King Galbatorix was defeated. But there were bands of outlaws that would attack a young girl who foolishly wandered off on her own.

Normally, Adena would accompany Clara. She usually woke before her friend anyway. They shared a room in the loft of the small farmhouse, and slept next to each other on two small sleeping pallets. Adena was always ready to go with Clara when her friend decided to go pick flowers. Two young girls weren't much safer than one, but it eased Adena's heart. Of course, Adena had a secret weapon to keep them safe. Literally a secret weapon. Nobody, especially not Morna, could ever know that she had a bow hidden under her pallet. She had found it in the woods of the Spine with string broken and the arrows missing. She managed to find or make more arrows and fix the string. It wasn't the most graceful weapon, but it served its purpose. She had been practicing with it for years, and was now quite a good archer.

Clara had slipped out earlier than usual this morning, even before Adena was awake. The sun was rising much sooner now, and it was warm enough outside for the early hours to be quite pleasant. Adena stared out the window, hating herself for not waking in time to go with Clara. She was also hating Clara for not waking her. And now she was hating herself for not rushing outside after her friend. But she couldn't bring herself to leave. _Today was the day._ _Today was the day that the Riders would come and give the young people of Targivan a chance to join their ancient order._ Adena wouldn't be able to live with herself if she missed this chance.

On the other hand, she certainly wouldn't be able to live with herself if something happened to Clara. Gritting her teeth, Adena pulled her bow out from under her pallet and slung the quiver across her back. Sometimes she wore it on her hip, where it was easier to draw arrows, but for running it was more convenient to have it on her back. Glad that Morna and Leary were already busy with their tasks outside, and that they had given her the day off due to the arrival of the Riders, she slipped outside.

Clara would be back soon, surely. If Adena hadn't known exactly where Clara liked to go to pick flowers, she might have spent all day searching the mountains while Clara sat back at home, having missed Adena on her way home. The meadow with the best wildflowers was a half hour walk away from the farm. The trail that the girls generally took to it was a narrow game trail, which at times was steep and twisting sharply through close growing pine trees.

Adena remembered clearly how she had found the path and the meadow it led to when she was only six. Clara, like most children from the village, had been afraid to go into the mountains with her. Adena had never understood that. The mountains were dangerous, certainly, but so were many lovely things. She loved the mystery of the mountains. The cool, clear air and the beautiful soaring peaks called to her. The dense forests held such adventure, and so much life. There was no place that Adena loved better. She would often lie on her back in the grass and stare up at the mountains, imagining the day that she would fly over them on dragonback.

Adena almost ran into Clara as she jogged around a steep turn on the path. The other girl yelped and dropped her bouquet as they collided. Both apologizing hurriedly, they scrabbled to pick up the fallen flowers.

"Well, hello Adena. Why are you here?" Clara asked, puzzled. Adena rolled her eyes.

"You went out on your own. You can't do that! It's too dangerous."

"I appreciate how much you care about me," Clara said, smiling. "And I was a bit frightened to go on my own, but you were sleeping so peacefully. Besides," she added, blushing, "I was nervous to tell you who I was getting the flowers for."

Adena glanced down at the bouquet. Tiger lilies. She clearly remembered a boy in the village talking to Clara the day before, and comparing her to a tiger lily. He had said that it was his favourite flower. Plenty of boys in the village would flirt with Clara like that, but that boy was the only one that Clara liked in return. His name was Aindreas son of Cathal, and he had been interested in Clara for years.

"Really, Clara? Giving a boy a bouquet of flowers? I'm sure that he'll appreciate the sentiment, but usually the boy brings the girl flowers, not the other way around." Adena wondered if Clara really could have missed that.

"He said that tiger lilies were his favourite flowers," Clara replied. She clearly did not understand. "I just want to be nice."

Adena shook her head. It didn't matter. Clara could bring Aindreas a dead rat and he would still think her a goddess. The two girls continued down the path together. Adena was just relieved that nothing had happened to her friend. She always felt so responsible for her.

Eventually, Clara broke the silence. "So, are you planning on trying to touch the dragon egg?"

"Of course," Adena grinned. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. It's lucky that there are people coming here from all over, or everyone would be wondering who that strange boy wearing the big hat is. Now there will be so many people, no one will notice."

"I'm still worried about you," Clara murmured. "What if somebody _does_ notice? They could really hurt you, and nobody would ever respect you again."

"Does anyone respect me now?" Adena asked skeptically. "Most people don't think about me. I blend into the background. You're the one that everyone notices."

Clara looked distressed. "No, Adena! Everyone likes you, I'm sure of it." Adena sighed. Clara never seemed to be able to see the darker side of life. She had never noticed that everything wasn't actually perfect all the time, and that sometimes people weren't happy. But Adena never could find it in herself to make Clara see the truth of things.

"Never mind that now. Let's go home. If we hurry, we can get some dinner before we go to the village for the ceremony." Adena tried to keep her fear from her voice. Clara was right. Disguising herself was risky. But this was her only chance to achieve her dream.


	3. Life and Death

The square was packed. Young men and boys were chatting excitedly everywhere. Adena felt like she was about to throw up. Around the edges of the square, adults and young girls were whispering excitedly, hoping that one of their sons or brothers would be chosen as the next Dragon Rider. Adena knew that it was unlikely that anybody would be chosen here. Dragon eggs were usually carried around to different villages and cities for a year before they finally found someone worthy to be their Rider.

The disguise that Adena had on was hopefully good enough to prevent anybody she knew from recognizing her. She wore a long coat belonging to Leary, along with a wide-brimmed hat. A few people cast her odd looks, but she ignored them. A man stood in the front of the square, desperately bellowing orders to the assembled masses. The Rider hopefuls were to form up into a line, while the spectators were to move back. Most people were chattering too loudly to hear his shouts.

Adena caught sight of the egg's carriers by the well in the middle of the square. Her breath caught in her throat. Elves! She had never seen an elf before. Though there were a good number of elves that lived outside of Du Weldenvarden, none lived in Targivan.

Eventually, everybody was formed up into the line. The crowd chattered excitedly at the edge of the square. They quieted as the taller of the two elves stepped forward and held up something that glowed. It was the egg. Adena gasped in wonder as she stared at it. It was more beautiful than she ever could have imagined, and she had spent plenty of time imagining what a dragon egg would look like. From the murmurs from the rest of the people assembled in the square, she wasn't the only one enchanted by the egg.

The egg glowed with an inner light. Adena could see that, even though the sun was bright in the sky. The egg's surface was a shining silver, brighter than any coin she had ever seen. Veins of pale blue flowed across the surface, sparkling like water in a clear mountain river. Adena felt drawn to the egg. Her desire to become a Rider had never been stronger. She wanted to be the lucky person to be bound to the dragon inside that egg. A dragon which, she was sure, shone as brightly as the moon.

The initial delight began to wear off as the sun slowly arched across the sky. Adena was about halfway down the line. Each boy was told to hold the egg for about a minute before the elf declared that they had not been chosen. These boys went away looking either depressed or angry. A few began to argue, saying that they had felt the egg move, or that they hadn't been given enough time. Most of these fell silent and left sullenly at a glance from the elves. A few continued to fight for a while before they gave up. Once, a boy refused to leave, and the taller of the elves picked the protesting human up and carried him away to the crowd. The boy's friends held him back as he fought, red-faced, to get back at the elf.

Adena saw all of this from her place on the gray cobblestones of the square. She stood behind a tall, grumpy looking youth who loudly told anyone who would listen that he was only there because his father had made him. Behind her, there was a group of excited boys that seemed to only be eight years old. They wouldn't stop talking. At first, this hadn't bothered her, but as the day wore on and they showed no sign of quieting down, she began to get quite annoyed. Normally she would have turned around and told them very quietly and calmly to stop, with the glance of a person that would be more than willing to start punching. She couldn't do that this time, however, because she didn't want a confrontation that would lead to her secret being discovered.

Glancing at the edge of the crowd, Adena tried to spot Clara. She had been doing this the whole time, worried that Clara would wander off and get into trouble. She knew that she was being overly protective, but she couldn't help it. Clara was so innocent. It took Adena only a few moments to find the red hair of her friend in the crowd. It was fairly easy, as very few people had red hair around here. Most had brown or blonde hair.

When Adena finally spotted Clara, her heart seemed to stop. Because standing behind the teenage girl were two taller, older people.

Morna and Leary.

Clara had obviously been scanning the crowd for Adena and spotted her at that moment. She flashed her a bright smile and gestured to the couple behind her. She was calling something to her. Adena tried to make out the words, but the chatter in the square was too loud. From reading her lips, Adena guessed that Clara was telling her that she had brought their foster parents. She probably had more information to share as well, but Adena couldn't tell what it was.

Adena looked at Morna and Leary, trepidation stirring within her. She knew that they wouldn't reveal her by coming over. They didn't want her to get hurt. But there would be trouble for her when she got home. Leary was generally fairly quiet, but Morna could be vicious when roused.

Leary grinned at her and waved. To her surprise, he seemed quite pleased. There was fear for her in his eyes, certainly. But he seemed to be genuinely happy for her. Morna looked less pleased, but she smiled too, albeit rather weakly. Adena relaxed. Perhaps she wouldn't be in too much trouble when she got home.

By now, there were only five people ahead of Adena. A scrawny young boy, the burly son of the local blacksmith, a six-year-old who began to cry when the egg didn't hatch, and a boy who seemed to be right on the threshold of manhood all came up and held the egg for a short span. The egg remained the same for all of them, glowing dimly. The boy in front of her, who had said he didn't want to be a Rider, seemed surprisingly excited to hold the egg. When nothing unusual happened, he looked remarkably disappointed for somebody who didn't care. Adena hid a smile.

Then she forgot about the boy. Her heart raced as she stepped up to the egg. It was even more beautiful up close. Hands trembling, a strange feeling of fate settling down on her shoulders, Adena reached out and took the egg from the elf.

The moment her fingers came into contact with the surface of the egg, a blinding light filled the square. The egg was shining like the noonday sun, but the light was the colour of starlight. Everybody shielded their eyes, some people crying out from shock. A feeling of flying came over Adena, though her feet remained firmly planted on the ground. She thought she smelled pine and felt a cool breeze on her skin, though there were no trees and no wind in the square.

The light and strange sensations lasted for only a moment, but it seemed much longer to Adena. Then they were gone, leaving the girl feeling strangely empty. She stared at the egg laying in her hands. It was glowing brighter than it had before she had touched it, though it was nothing to the brilliance with which it had glowed only a moment before.

"We have our newest Dragon Rider," the shorter elf said quietly. Adena turned to look at the elf in amazement. It registered in the back of her mind that the elf was a woman, and was not wearing a dress, but a tunic and leggings. This seemed odd to her but was quickly forgotten as the feeling of elation mixed with confusion filled her.

"But it didn't hatch," she pointed out, far too confused and excited to try and deepen her voice.

"No," the taller elf agreed. "It didn't. But that means nothing. Eggs hatching when they first come into contact with the person they choose is a rare event. Usually, they take a couple of days. If the dragon has been in the egg for a particularly long time, it can take several weeks. When the egg chooses its Rider, there is usually a sign. Sometimes quite subtle, and you wouldn't be able to tell if you didn't know what to look for. Other times," he glanced at the egg in Adena's hands, "It is quite striking. I admit I have never seen an egg do that before."

The crowd was silent. Only those closest could hear what the elf had said to Adena, but they were quickly relaying it onto others. Those who had not yet heard the news were whispering among themselves, wondering if that meant that the strange boy in the big hat was chosen, or if they had done something to the egg. Adena's eyes found Clara, Morna, and Leary. Clara was smiling so hard it looked like her face might split open. Morna was smiling as well, her doubts seemingly forgotten. Then Adena's eyes sought Leary. The man was smiling almost as hard as Clara, his weathered face beaming like the sun.

The next moment was forever branded into Adena's memory.

She saw a flicker of movement off to the side, as something shifted in the shadows. But before she could really turn her attention to that movement, something went streaking from the alley and struck Leary. Something that moved almost too fast to be seen.

The smile fell from the face of the man that Adena realized in that moment, for the first time, she loved as much as any daughter should love her father. There were screams as more arrows fell into the crowd and onto the buildings. Burning projectiles crashed into buildings, quickly setting the straw thatches alight. But Adena could not tear her eyes away from Leary, whose hand had gone to his chest. For something sharp was protruding there, blood flowing from the wound.

Adena lost sight of him as the crowd surged, screaming. Soldiers dressed in dark green uniforms were appearing everywhere. The crowds, unable to run in the cramped area, were being slaughtered.

The egg was still clutched in Adena's hands. She paused, torn. She couldn't run into the heat of the fray with the egg. The fledgling dragon inside could be hurt or killed. But Leary was somewhere in the seething mass of humanity, badly injured. Clara and Morna would be with him, and in danger. It was her duty to protect this dragon, but it was her duty to look after her family. Though no blood tied them, she loved them more than anything. With that thought, Adena plunged into the crowd.

People crashed into her, screaming. Adena tripped, landing hard on the cobblestones. She barely managed to twist her body to prevent the egg from connecting with the stone. Turning around to see what she had tripped over, Adena was horrified to see a body, eyes staring lifelessly ahead at nothing. In the next moment, she realized that it was one of the young boys that had been talking so loudly behind her.

Rising to her feet, Adena stumbled on. She had been in this square so many times before, yet she couldn't tell where she was. She recognized half of the people she saw, for she had known them since she had been born. To see adults who were always calm and steady running from the soldiers, terror etched on their faces, was strange and frightening. Worse still was to see the people she knew so well dead or dying, and knowing that there was nothing she could do and that her own family could be suffering the same fate at that very moment.

She screamed for Clara, looking around for the familiar red hair. A soldier in a green smashed into her and she ran, stumbling and screaming for her family. She stopped and cried out as somebody ran into her. She recognized the six-year-old that had cried when the egg was taken away. He cried to her for help. She reached down to pick him up, to carry him to safety. A tall, burly man that she didn't recognize saw the boy and snatched him up. Adena was relieved to see that he wore no green uniform, but the coarse clothes of a farmer. It was just as well that the man took the boy. She could not have carried both the boy and the egg.

At that moment, Adena spotted a familiar red head. Gasping in relief, she threw herself past the fray to where Clara knelt next to Morna.

At that moment, all relief at finding her family disappeared. Morna was screaming and tearing at her hair. Clara was sobbing. Looking down, Adena saw him.

Leary's eyes were wide and blank. Blood had ceased to flow from the wound, but his chest was stained so very dark. Small rivers of crimson were trickling between the cracks of the cobblestones.

"NO!"

Adena did not believe it. She could not believe it. Leary could not be dead. He was the steady, unshakable one that never changed. He was the shoulder to cry on, the person who understood. He was always there. He had always been right there.

Adena was so horrified, she did not notice the soldier that was approaching them from behind Morna's back. Clara did, looking up at just the right time. Grey eyes widening in fear and horror, she stumbled to her feet. Adena saw this and lurched upright as well. Morna was too horror-stricken to move.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Adena herself was sluggish, unable to stop what happened next. The soldier raised his sword. Adena lunged forward, desperate to save Morna as her foster-mother sobbed on the ground. But she was too slow. The blade sliced down. Morna's cries were cut short as she collapsed on top of her husband, bleeding from her neck.

Clara screamed in horror. What happened next, Adena could not understand. Some great force seemed to explode outward, towards the soldier. But it did not come from her. Of that, Adena was sure. She would feel it. For a moment, she thought that it was the silver light from the egg, but the egg was glowing only slightly brighter than usual. The force came from Clara.

As the girl screamed, the great force threw the soldier back, and he connected with the wall of a building with a sickening crunch.

Adena stared at the soldier for several long moments, then turned to look at Clara. Her friend swayed. Adena caught Clara before she could fall and hit her head on the bloody cobblestones. She moved her over to the edge of the square and propped her up with her back against a building.

Looking up, Adena saw that the soldiers were still slaughtering the villagers. But as she watched, an elf she didn't recognize beheaded a soldier that was about to bring his mace down on a young mother holding her crying baby. Villagers had begun to run, escaping down alleys they had been too frightened and confused to notice in the beginning. As the crowd thinned, Adena could see that there were eight elves fighting. There must have been six elves with the two that had presented the egg.

After a moment, Adena realized that they were not, in fact, all elves. There were three humans as well, fighting with just as much skill and speed as the elves. As she watched, one of the humans shouted something in a strange language, and a soldier fell down. He shouted something to his comrades, but she couldn't hear it over the screams.

Brave as the elves and human guards were, they were heavily outnumbered. Adena knew that she had to do something. Looking around, her eyes fell on a sword lying several feet away. It was covered in blood. It took Adena a moment to realize that the blood was Morna's, and the sword had belonged to the soldier that killed her. It had fallen from his hand when he had been blasted backward by that strange force. Adena suppressed the urge to throw the sword as far away from herself as she could. She needed a weapon.

At that very moment, a soldier came running towards her, thinking that she was just another cowering child for him to kill. Adena gently set the egg down on the ground and took a firm hold of the sword with both hands, hiding it on the ground behind her as the soldier advanced. Surprise was her only advantage now, for she had no clue how to wield a sword, and the soldier was obviously quite proficient.

When he was almost upon her, she slashed outwards with the sword, hitting him in the shins. The sword dented the greaves, not breaking through to cut the skin. But the bent metal had a great effect anyway, as they tore into his shins unrelentingly. He fell, screaming in pain. It was loud, and other soldiers would soon hear and come to the aid of their fallen comrade. Adena stood up and held the sword to the fallen soldier's throat. Chain mail covered it, but with him helpless on the ground, Adena was sure that she would be able to stab through it.

The hard part was actually doing it. As she pressed the tip of the sword to the man's throat, Adena saw his eyes through the helmet. They were wild with fear. Despite the heat of the moment, she noticed that his eyes were brown. An image popped into her mind, unbidden. She saw one of the young boys she knew from the village, now probably either dead or wounded. She remembered this boy's large brown eyes, and how they had shone with excitement as he had chattered about how he was going to be a great warrior someday. He had said that the would kill all the cruel people in the world and be a great hero. Adena remembered him lunging around with his wooden sword.

In that fleeting instant, Adena saw that young boy in the man's terrified brown eyes. She suddenly realized that this man was once a young boy, and had not turned into some kind of unfeeling monster in the years since. He had killed people she cared about, and yet he was still a human. If she killed him, was she really different from him?

This was a very deep and meaningful inner dialogue, all thought in that instant that she stared into the soldier's eyes. Doubtless, she would have continued to stand there and debate internally over the horror of mortality and the blurred line between good and evil, but her thoughts were cut short. At that moment, the tall elf that had presented the egg appeared, and the soldier's head, together with his brown eyes, was rolling away.

The elf grabbed Adena's arm and shouted something to her, but her eyes were fixed on the head lying on the cobblestones. The helmet had fallen off, and she could see the brown eyes very clearly now. They seemed to be staring at her in accusation, though she hadn't been the one who ended his life.

Suddenly, something smooth and warm was thrust into her arms. Adena suddenly became aware of the battle raging around her, and of the elf yelling at her. He had given her the egg again. Now she could hear his voice.

"You must get the egg to safety! Assemble all of the villagers and get them out of the square. Find a safe place and hide there. If the soldiers get past us, you need to be away. Go!"

Adena had to admit, that sounded like a better use of her time than trying to fight off trained soldiers with a sword she couldn't use. Especially since she couldn't kill the men without having a deep internal debate. She nodded and the elf ran off, relieved. Adena suddenly noticed that his armour was slick with blood, and there was a cut on his brow. Funny. She had never imagined an elf bleeding. That seemed altogether too human. How odd.

Finally, Adena fully came back to herself. She saw Clara staggering to her feet over by the edge of the square. The fighting was currently at the opposite side of the square, but there was no telling how long that would last. It seemed that the villagers had finally fully escaped from the heart of the battle itself, but they wandered about in confusion, calling for lost loved ones, or else wept over the bodies of the loved ones they had found. The elven and human warriors

"Come on, Clara!" Adena shouted as she ran over. Grabbing her friend's arm, she pulled the stunned girl away with her. For the next five minutes, they ran around the square, telling all of the villagers to run through the south alley and wait at the blacksmith's forge until they met them there. Many did as they said, either running as fast as they could with fear still clear on the faces or walked forward like sleepwalkers, blank-eyed with grief and shock. Some refused to move, despite the girls' cajoling. They continued to weep over the bodies of their loved ones. Adena cast another glance over at the battle, in time to see the female elf from the ceremony be overwhelmed by a knot of soldiers.

She couldn't think of anything else to do. The elves and humans were great warriors, but they were outnumbered and tiring. Every now and then, one of the elves or humans would shout a series of words in a strange language, and one of the soldiers would die, often in very strange ways. As she watched, the tall elf chanted some strange words and the soldier about to bring his sword down on one of the humans collapsed. After a moment, Adena noticed that water was flowing away from the body, and the soldier's showing skin was turning as dry as parchment. Horrified, Adena turned away and found Clara waiting for her.

Making her decision, Adena thrust the egg into Clara's arms. Her friend stared at her in shock.

"Take the egg and get everyone to safety. I'll follow soon. I just need to try and help."

"No, Adena! You can't just-"

Adena cut Clara off, pushing her toward the south alley. Her friend turned, but Adena shook her head.

"Go! I'll be fine! You need to get everyone to safety."

Eyes filling with tears, Clara nodded, turned, and ran. Adena faced the square again. She glanced around and spotted what she needed. A bow was strapped to the back of one of the dead soldiers. Most of his arrows were broken, but she found an undamaged quiver nearby on another soldier's back. She slung it over her back and pulled out an arrow, fitting it to the string with practiced ease. As she pulled back the bowstring, Adena sighed.

"Oh, I am such an idiot. I'm going to get myself killed."

Author's Note

I'm sorry that this chapter took so long! It's longer and very exciting! Hopefully, anyway. I meant to do an author's note in the last chapter, but I forgot. Anyway, here I am! I have never done an author's note before, so I apologize if I sound a bit awkward. By the way, as you may have noticed, I am not Christopher Paolini. Therefore, I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.

Wow, I never expected to have anybody notice my story! I already have two reviews! I suppose that means I should do some shout-outs.

WhatMidnightDragon: Thank you! I'm glad that you liked it.

Veor Hrdenda: I appreciate your questions, and I do agree with you. I think I wasn't clear about the female riders. I did mention that elven women were equal, but when I said that there were only four female riders, I meant four non-elf female riders currently alive. I should have specified that. As for the rest of the issues, they will be addressed throughout the book, as this is an important part of the story. I hope you enjoy the story anyway!

Hopefully, I will be updating once a week. I say that knowing full well that I will manage that for a little while, then begin to get slower. I will do my best to update as often as possible. But no matter what, this story will be finished. I can't stand it when people leave stories without a conclusion. The next chapter should be coming very soon, as I am extremely excited to write it!


	4. Valerie

The throne room door banged shut ominously. Valerie knew that most commoners that entered this room died within a week. This was because King Cadeyrn usually only allowed commoners into his throne room if they had committed a serious offense and he was going to sentence them to death. As she walked across the marble floor, Valerie noticed that there were faint blood stains on the carpet that stretched down the middle of the room. Obviously, some offenders' sentences had been carried out immediately after they had received them.

Ever since that night on the windblown plain, Valerie had been preparing for a long trip. If there was even a chance that her sister was in that foreign land, she had to investigate. Her sister had been taken when Valerie was only six. Her sister had been only a year old. The kidnappers had stolen her sister away and had attempted to take Valerie. She had cried out and fought, which woke her parents.

Whenever Valerie thought of that night, she hated herself. This was a rare thing, as Valerie was not a humble person by nature, and was not the kind of person to place the blame on herself unless she knew that she truly was to blame. But if Valerie hadn't cried out, her parents would have stayed asleep and the kidnappers would have left them alone. They hadn't been interested in the adults. Valerie had never figured out why the men had wanted to steal her and her sister, Briallen, but had not touched her parents.

Her parents, upon seeing their daughters beset by the men, had attacked. Both had been accomplished fighters, as all Ghaisgich were. Ghaisgich were a species similar to humans, but not quite the same. For instance, they had longer fingers and toes, though few noticed. They also were stronger than humans and matured faster. Unlike humans, the vast majority of the Ghaisgich were unable to swim and loathed water. Their ancestors had lived in trees, granting them agility and balance. The Ghaisgich had only left the trees about two hundred years before, and there were still large cities full of the people. They would have been able to destroy any human army if it wasn't for one of their greatest weaknesses, which was that they had horrible immune systems and would fall seriously ill if they so much as caught a common cold. Valerie's family had been stronger than most for generations, almost as good at repelling diseases as humans. That was lucky, or Valerie would never have been able to continue her search for her sister without catching some disease and dying.

At about the time that Briallen was taken, many other Ghaisgich were disappearing, all of them children. They had integrated among humans to such an extent that few people even noticed whether someone was human or Ghaisgich when engaging in everyday conversation. Nobody understood why they were all disappearing. The parents of those that lost their children went searching for them. None returned. Valerie's parents had never had the chance to search for their younger daughter. The kidnappers had slain them when they attacked, killing them with ease. Valerie's parents had been great warriors, even for Ghaisgich, and it had always puzzled their eldest daughter that the kidnappers had dispatched them so easily.

Valerie had escaped during the short fray. This was another thing that made her hate herself, though the girl knew that there was nothing she could have done. She still felt like she had abandoned her family. At least, she thought, she could have hidden nearby and followed the kidnappers when they left. If she had done that, she would not have had to spend the rest of her life searching for her lost sister, the only person she had left in the world. She had convinced herself that her sister was still alive, refusing to admit that her she might be dead.

Of course, Valerie still had to eat, and searching for her lost sister did not fill her belly. She lived on the run, unable to stay in one place for long. This was partly because a new lead was always popping up, and she had to go chasing it down and leave her home behind. But, in truth, it was also because Valerie had never been able to settle down. She was a wandering spirit. To pay for food when she stopped in towns, to pay her informants when they gave her information, and to bribe people into letting her into forbidden places, Valerie worked as a mercenary, and sometimes an assassin. Before she had been strong enough to kill, she had spied. She also picked pockets when there wasn't enough work.

None of these lines of work had done a great deal of good for her character. A weaker person might have turned into an honourless lout years before. Perhaps Valerie would have too if she wasn't so focused on saving her sister. As it was, Valerie's temper, hostility, and ruthlessness were well known. It was probably due mostly to those attributes that she was in such great demand. That, and her flawless record. She never failed and was never caught.

This reputation had finally brought her to the attention of King Cadeyrn. She had first been summoned four years ago when she was fifteen. He had asked her to assassinate a Count that was trying to mobilize an army against him. Valerie herself was not particularly loyal to the king, and the Count had requested her to fight as one of his lieutenants, but in the end, she chose to serve the king. He was paying almost twice as much as the Count, and she hadn't been keen to make the most powerful monarch in the world her personal enemy.

He had summoned her again two years later to lead a small fighting party into the mountains and destroy a group of persistent outlaws that had been looting villages and escaping authorities for a year. She had beaten them easily enough with the group of twelve warriors from the King's personal guard that he had given her to command. She had learned from one of the guards that the King always had eight men with him, but four remained hidden. She kept that information in mind now, on the third occasion that King Cadeyrn had summoned her.

She had seen the two men at the door of the throne room. It was a fair distance from the door to the throne, so if there was a struggle she would be able to dispatch the guards at the King's side before the two at the door could respond to the King's call for help. As she walked across the room, she had glanced at the walls, trying to guess where the other four guards were hiding. There were tapestries all along the walls, and there was no furniture in the room. Two large tapestries were behind the King's throne. Valerie guessed that two were hidden behind the tapestries behind the King's throne, and the other behind the ones near the opposite end of the room, to cut off anyone trying to escape.

As she walked, Valeria planned what to do about the guards in her mind. It wasn't that she actually expected anything to happen, but it was better to be prepared, in her experience. _If I get right up close to the throne before I strike, I can kill both of the guards beside his throne before they know what is happening. The hidden guards behind the throne will jump out, and by that time Cadeyrn will have called for help. It will take longer to kill the other two because I won't have the element of surprise. If I'm still fighting them when the other two hidden in the room get here, I will be hard pressed. I might still be able to beat them, but if the two outside the door reach me I don't know if I'll be able to handle all six. They're strong warriors. If I feint towards the king when I'm against the hidden throne guards, they'll jump in front of him to defend him. If I shift just a little to the right at the last moment…_

By the time she reached King Cadeyrn's throne, Valeria had a full battle plan. It really was more for fun than anything else. The guards behind the throne stared straight ahead expressionlessly, but she knew that they were watching her out of the corners of their eyes. King Cadeyrn himself was nothing particularly impressive. The images on the coins of the land, and the man that the commoners thought of looked nothing like the person sitting stiffly in the ornate throne before her. He seldom made public appearances and was always careful to be far away from the eyes of the people, preferably on top of a tall balcony with the sun behind him.

The people had been led to believe that the king was a tall, muscled man with a black beard and piercing dark eyes. In truth, he was a short, weedy person with shifty blue eyes. They weren't even a nice blue. They were kind of dull, really. Looking at those dull eyes, Valeria often found it hard to believe that he was the genius behind the calculated strategies that made Làidir's army so strong. The kingdom of Làidir, Cadeyrn's domain and the place that Valeria spent most of her time, was one of the largest and strongest kingdoms in the whole world. At least, the whole world they knew of. Everyone said that it was because of King Cadeyrn's wisdom, his mastery of the political sciences, his diplomacy, and his military genius.

Perhaps that was true. Valerie had seen the king's advisors, and they look no smarter than their king. Her guess was that Cadeyrn wanted people to underestimate him. However, she doubted he was faking the fact that he was constantly ill. He had a yellowish look to his skin, and his blonde hair and beard looked too thin to be healthy for somebody only just entering his fourth decade. The king, who Valerie suspected of being very vain, tried to hide his thinning hair and yellowed skin with wigs and makeup. Unfortunately, he was always sweating and the makeup did not last long. The wigs always ended up half-off his head from him falling asleep in his throne with his chin rested in his hand.

Today, however, the king looked quite alert. His skin even had a rosy tinge to it, as though he were very excited. He eyed the young woman closely as if assessing her possible danger. She could tell from his glance that he was frustrated that she would not bow, curtsy, kneel, or even bow her head. She never had before, as she did not think herself to be below him. He allowed this insult to pass only because she was more useful to him alive than dead. Finally, he spoke.

"So, I hear that you have received information about a kingdom to the west, from the turncoat who deserted my army to aid the treacherous explorer."

Valerie cursed mentally. How did he know that? She had told no one, and how could anyone have been watching or listening that night on the plain? It was so flat there, she would have seen somebody. Her only guess was that somebody had been hiding in the grass, like a snake waiting for unsuspecting prey to pass. The one consolation was that there was no way that the spy could have heard what was said. The wind had been blowing so hard she could barely hear what the soldier had said to her from two feet away. She needed to be careful now. She knew what would happen if Cadeyrn found the western kingdom. It would be the same thing that happened to every country that had enough riches to interest him. The armies of Làidir, so much more powerful than those of the neighboring kingdoms, would sweep down upon the kingdom and kill all that opposed them.

If Briallen really was there, Valerie couldn't risk the king killing her when he attacked. If it wasn't for her sister, Valerie couldn't really care less if Cadeyrn attacked the foreign land. The occupants were not her concern unless Briallen was one of them. For that reason, she could not reveal what she had learned. Valerie considered all of her options in a split second. There was no point trying to deny that she had met and killed the soldier. He obviously knew that already. The best course of action would be to tell as close to the truth as possible, with just the right amount of lies to prevent the king from discovering what she had learned. Cadeyrn waited for her answer, tapping his thin fingers on the arms of his throne.

"It is true, sire," Valerie began, "I met with the soldier you speak of. I hunted him down to see if I could obtain any information to bring to you. Alas, he knew very little. He told me that they found no definite signs of civilization, though it is possible that the explorer knew more and did not tell any of the soldiers for fear of treachery."

The king contemplated her for several moments. When he spoke, his voice was calm and measured, but she could sense anger under the smooth tones.

"That is the only information then? I see. And you were sure of this when you met with him. You knew instinctively that he had told you all he knew?" Valerie felt her stomach lurch. She knew was he was getting at. "I am amazed at your powers of perception. Truly, I did not know that mind-reading was among your people's talents. But surely you must have known, for why else would you kill him then and there?"

Valerie thought fast. "I did not think he had any more information, sire. But there is also the fact that we were a long way from any civilization. I had only one horse with me, and he would have been difficult to bring along. He also insulted me while I questioned him, and I admit I could not contain my anger." Valerie prayed that her reputation for violence was enough to sustain the weak lie. She could only hope that the king did not know that she never lost her temper during a fight, only before, when she started the battle.

From the look on Cadeyrn's face, he did not believe her. Before she could draw her sword, the guards were mere feet away from her, weapons drawn. She stumbled backward, buying her enough time to draw her own weapon. The moment the blade was free of its sheath, it was blocking the sword of the larger guard. She did not have the element of surprise now, as she had planned to when she decided upon her battle strategy. She had only dispatched one of the guards by the time that the two hidden behind the throne and the two positioned further down the hall had reached them. She guessed that the guards at the door would stay in place to ensure that no one else got in.

Valerie felt vaguely pleased that she had correctly guessed the placement of the two hidden guards but quickly forgot about it as she desperately tried to block the swords of the five guards currently besieging her. Valerie was a great warrior, but these guards had been selected because of their great talent with weapons, and they spent all of their waking hours either watching over the king or training. She was barely managing to hold off the five guards surrounding her, and certainly wasn't going to be able to injure any of them. She felt a stab of pain in her left arm, her sword arm. One of the guards had sliced into her skin. It was a small cut, but it hurt. It also caused her to hesitate.

It was only for a split second, but the guards jumped at the opportunity. Before she knew what was happening, two guards had grabbed her arms from behind and yanked them behind her back. Another grabbed her hair, which was tied back in a braid, and yanked her head back. She struggled, and the two remaining guards grabbed her shoulder, preventing her from fighting back. A snarl was fixed on her face as the king calmly stood up from his throne and came forward. He stopped right in front of her. At a glance from him and one of the guards kicked her in the back of her legs, causing her to fall to her knees. Fury engulfed Valerie as she tried to stand up. She _would_ not kneel to this man.

Unable to stand, she glared up at him, resentment boiling in her veins. He seemed pleased by the fact that she had to look up at him. Standing, she was a good three inches taller than him, and no king likes to be forced to look up at people. Cadeyrn smiled. It was not a nice smile, partly because he had very rotten teeth and partly because of the malice it contained.

"I am no fool. I know that you are lying to me. You know what the explorer found. I do not want to send my army across that god-forsaken desert unless I know that there truly is something over there. We don't have time to waste sending another search party over. You will tell me what you heard."

"No," Valerie hissed, "I won't. I will not bow down to you. You can kill me if you want, but I will never give in." Any hope the king had of getting her to talk was gone now. She might have reached a deal with him if he had approached it properly. But this only made her hate him. Valerie would do anything to deny him the information he so desperately wanted. She glared at him so hard she was half surprised that he didn't burst into flames from the intensity of it. Then she saw a flicker of movement and a flash of light to her left. Unable to turn her head due to the soldier still pulling her hair to keep her head up, she only caught a glimpse of the silver out of the corner of her eye.

The source of the flash of light came fully into her vision a few moments later. The guard holding her left shoulder passed the king a long, curved knife. Its polished blade glinted in the torchlight. Cadeyrn smiled again, even more unpleasantly. He leaned over her, pressing the knife to the side of her face. Valerie had never been especially beautiful, but nor had she been particularly ugly. It wasn't that she really cared about her appearance, she needed to avoid disfigurements that would make her easily recognizable and memorable. As she felt the cold of the metal seep into her skin, Valerie dimly realized that she was going to become memorable indeed. She had seen a few victims of the king's torture chamber. Few survived, and those that did were so horribly scarred their faces could elicit screams from children.

This cut was only the first. More would be made in the weeks to come unless Valerie submitted. She wouldn't do that. She would not bow down to this man.

As the knife sliced into her skin, Valerie felt a terrible burning and realized that there was likely acid or some type of poison on the knife. He did not want her dead, but he would inflict as much pain as he could on her without killing her.

Valerie was very proud of the fact that she never screamed when she was injured. She never wept, nor cried for mercy.

She was ashamed of how many times she did all three in the weeks to come.


	5. Aftermath

The arrow soared through the air as fast as a shooting star. Before it even struck the soldier in the neck, the archer was already pulling another arrow out of the quiver. By the time the arrow contacted the man's neck and sunk deep into the flesh, the new arrow was drawn back, ready to be released. As the soldier fell, the new arrow was already singing towards the fray.

Adena had spent years practising to get this good. The bow was different from her own. It was larger and sturdier, but she could handle it almost as well. She could use a bow. A sword was unfamiliar. The pain at killing was not as hard to bear now, as she killed from a distance. But it was still difficult, causing Adena to hesitate before releasing the third arrow. There were about six soldiers left now. The remaining guards would likely be able to defeat them, but they were tired and had lost three of their number. As she hesitated, one of the human warriors received a blow to the arm from one of the soldiers' maces. He cried out in pain and dropped his sword. Adena quickly turned the tip of her arrow towards the soldier attacking him and released. The soldier fell before he could finish the man off. The guard looked up and saw Adena. She could see the gratitude in his eyes.

The tall elf killed one soldier. The guard that Adena had saved snatched up his weapon and finished off another. Adena's arrow found its mark once again. Another elf killed one of the last soldiers. The final soldier, realizing that he had no hope of defeating all of his opponents, lifted his sword with a snarl on his face. His helmet had fallen off at some point in the fray, leaving his head bare. Blood streaked his face, and his eyes were wild. But he didn't back down or beg for mercy. The remaining guards surrounded him, swords and various other weapons pointed towards him, ready to dispatch him if he attacked. The man began to laugh, a broken, unnatural sound.

Adena paused, unsure if she should shoot or not. Deciding to wait, she lowered her bow and watched as the elves and humans encircled the soldier, cutting off all escape routes. The soldier's laughter slowly died down, though a strange smile still curled the man's lips. The tall elf stepped forward, sword at the ready. Blood streaked his face, and he was limping.

"Why did you come here? Whom do you serve?" The elf's voice was steady, but Adena could hear the fury behind it, though the rigid training of the elves kept his anger mostly in check. The soldier, still unafraid, smiled like a man who no longer fears death.

"I am here on the orders of Queen Rowena. It is an honour to serve her majesty, and an honour to die in battle for her glory."

The elven and human guards glanced at each other. Adena stared at the man. She had never heard of Queen Rowena. The monarch of Alagaesia was King Cailean, and he had no wife. The monarch of the elves was still Arya Drottning, who had risen to power after the fall of King Galbatorix. Adena couldn't remember who the ruler of the dwarves was, but she remembered that it was a man. Besides, these soldiers were not dwarves. She didn't even know if the Urgals had one single ruler, but the soldiers weren't Urgals either.

The elf looked back at the soldier, clearly as confused as Adena was. Even he hadn't heard of Queen Rowena. Out of the corner of her eye, Adena saw one of the human guards drawing his sword. He glanced at the body of one of the other guards, a young human that had fallen early in the battle. Rage contorted his features, and he took several strides forward, lifting his sword. Adena gasped in horror as the guard decapitated the soldier with a swing of his sword. The man stood, staring down at the body with a heaving chest, fury still blazing in his eyes.

The elf turned to him, and now the anger was clear on his face. When he spoke, his voice was cold and deadly.

"You should not have attacked him. We could have learned more from him. You're actions have caused us to lose invaluable information."

"That scum did not deserve to spend one more minute breathing the air of this world," the guard spat. "Our lost comrades are avenged."

The other guards did not look convinced, but there was no point in arguing further. They turned away to survey the square. As they did, the tall elf's eyes locked onto Adena. They widened in surprise. He left his fellows standing around the soldier's body and came striding towards her.

"Where is the egg?" His voice was harsh, and he gripped her arm with a vice-like grip. Adena tried to pull away in surprise, but he held on. "Where is it? You cannot treat a dragon's egg so lightly!"

"It's safe!" Adena cried, managing to pull her arm out of the elf's grip. "It's with my friend, Clara. I gave it to her to keep safe so that I could come and help."

The elf shook his head. "That was very foolish. The egg should always have been your first priority. Are you sure that your friend can be trusted? Are you sure that she was safe?"

As if to answer his question, Clara appeared between the buildings, along with several of the braver villagers. Her eyes were wide, and tears still streaked her face. She held the silver egg in her arms. It continued to glow, but faintly. Adena rushed over and hugged Clara, who embraced her equally tightly. They stayed there for several moments, then Clara pulled away.

"Here," she whispered, handing Adena the egg. "It belongs with you. The minute you let go of it, it started glowing much more faintly."

Adena took the egg, causing it to flash brightly before settling down into a steady silver glow. The elf glanced at it, and Adena saw the faintest flicker of confusion before he forced all emotion from his face. He glanced around the town square, and Adena could see the sorrow in all of their hearts echoed in his eyes. Bodies lay everywhere, some of them the green tunics of the invaders. But far too many were innocent villagers. A heartbreaking number of the bodies were children. As more of the survivors began to trickle back into the square, voices started to rise up in agonized wails as people found their loved ones among the dead and dying.

One tall, bearded man that Adena recognized as a farmer from near the village stood up from where he had been kneeling next to a cluster of three bodies. Adena realized with a pang that it was his wife, holding onto her dead baby. A young boy of about eight lay next to his mother, obviously struck down as he tried to defend her and his younger sister. The farmer's face was streaked with tears, but his eyes were blazing as he pointed an accusing finger at the elves and their human comrades.

"You brought this on us!" His roar of fury caused all of the people in the square to turn towards him. "You and your cursed dragon egg are the reason that they attacked. Why else would they come here? The blood of our people is on your hands!"

The villagers began to murmur angrily. Adena and Clara exchanged a worried look. In times of great suffering, people would either be brought together or would begin to fight among themselves. It seemed that the latter was beginning in this case. Adena started forward as the crowd of villagers began to move towards the guards. The elves and humans did not draw their weapons, but they warily eyed the villagers that they had tried so hard to protect. Adena noticed that some of them were beginning to move their hands towards the handles of their weapons. She knew that this could not go on.

"Wait!" Nobody listened. Adena glanced at Clara again. Her friend's face was still streaked with tears, but a look of determination suddenly crossed it. Clara stuck two fingers in her mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Adena, standing right next to her, clapped a hand to her ear in pain. She had _never_ heard a whistle that loud before.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Adena asked, staring at Clara. The redhead shrugged, a little embarrassed, then elbowed Adena and pointed at the villagers. They had all turned to stare at the two girls in surprise. She had their attention. The question was, could she get them to listen? Adena took a deep breath and, feeling very self-conscious, began to speak.

"I know that their presence is likely the reason for the soldiers' attack," she began. She was interrupted by another roar of fury, and it looked like the attack was going to begin again. " _Just listen!"_ Adena bellowed, and they quieted down again. "While they are the reason, it was not their intention, and they could never have known. I'm sure that this has never happened before, has it?" The guards shook their heads. "See? They had no idea. And furthermore, if it wasn't for their efforts, you would all be dead. None of us could have stopped the soldiers alone. This was not their home and not their friends. They were under no responsibility to take on the soldiers and risk their own lives. But they did.

"They have lost three of their number. They are injured, and they have done nothing wrong. And we still need their help. The elves can do magic, remember? If we want to save our injured friends and family, then we need their help. Killing them will not help us in any way. Please, stop this."

There was a slight pause as the villagers murmured to each other. Then, casting many threatening looks over their shoulders at the guards, they began to disperse. Several spat on the ground at the feet of the guards, who remained completely motionless. Adena breathed another sigh of relief. The tall elf passed her, on the way to help with the wounded. He paused, and she could see the gratitude in his eyes. After a moment, he inclined his head to her.

Adena blinked, surprised, then nodded in return. The elf moved off again. She watched as he knelt before a young girl with a horrible wound in her stomach. Another wave of grief swept over her as she looked around the square. All the blood. She knew that Morna and Leary were over at the edge. And suddenly, now that the battle was over, the full realization of what she had lost swept over her. She couldn't take it anymore. She turned and fled, the dragon egg still clutched in her hands. She ran until her legs burned and she could barely draw breath, but the bloody faces from the square were still swimming before her eyes, so she ran on. She didn't even know where she was running to, but she knew that it had to be better than where she had been. Anything would be.

Her flight was brought to an abrupt halt as she tripped over a log that lay across the trail. It took Adena a moment to register what had happened, and several more to realize that she had no idea where she was. This didn't cause her to panic. On the contrary, for anywhere that was familiar to her would cause her to remember Morna and Leary. Unfortunately, that very thought caused her to remember, and she curled up against a nearby tree and sobbed until she felt like an empty shell. Then she leant her head back, hiccuping faintly, and stared at the blue sky shining through the trees. After a moment she started to feel a little resentful towards the sky. How dare it be so blue and clear. How dare it act like nothing had happened, as if this was just another day. It should be storming fiercely, to echo her raging grief and to wash her tears away with rain. The sky itself should've been crying that day.

The longer Adena sat there, the more furious she became. She could hear birdsong. How could birds be singing like that? Like everything was perfectly normal, and there were things to be cheerful about. It was unnatural and cruel. A robin fluttered onto a branch on the tree opposite her, not noticing the motionless human. Desperate to take her frustration out on _something,_ Adena picked up a rock and hurled it with all her might at the bird. It fluttered off in indignation, the rock having bounced off the branch about six inches away from it. This, of course, just added to Adena's frustration.

But before she could punish any more innocent birds for the crime of being cheerful, she remembered the egg in her lap. She had run all the way clutching it tightly to her chest, as though it were her only connection to the real world and the only thing that would keep her sane. Maybe it was. She stared down at the egg and found herself calming as her eyes traced the intricate veins of pale blue. In the shade of the tree, the glowing of the egg was obvious. Adena slowly ran her fingers over the egg's smooth surface. She felt something deep within her as she stared at the egg. A desire to protect it, no matter what. As she sat in the middle of the unfamiliar woods, Adena swore to the moon and stars that she would never let anything happen to the egg, to the dragon hidden within. She swore that whatever happened, she would look after this dragon and ensure that it lived the best life possible.

Once that had been dealt with, it became quite clear to her that she needed to go back. She needed to help in the village, for one thing. It had been selfish to run away like that when so many people needed help, and there were not enough people to provide assistance. In addition, she needed to go with the guards when they left, wherever it was that young riders were sent. She couldn't remember if they went to Ilirea or Ellesmera, the elven capital. Either way, she had to go to the Riders to train. A new plan was forming in her mind, causing the anger to bubble up again. But now it was focused, and she could use it.

"Queen Rowena," she whispered, getting to her feet. "Whoever you are, I am going to find you and make you pay for what you have caused today."

This resolution firmly set in her mind, Adena turned and began to walk back along the path, hoping that she would be able to find her way back. Luckily, the path did not fork once, and she found herself leaving the woods behind. Her heart gave an unpleasant jolt when she realized that she was in the field just north of her home and that if she turned and looked, she would be able to see the familiar stone buildings. Adena carefully kept her gaze ahead of her and followed the low stone wall that divided the field from the pasture. By alternating between walking and jogging, she managed to make fairly good time back to the village.

"Where did you go?!" Clara almost crushed her adopted sister in a surprisingly strong hug the moment she saw her. Adena noticed that Clara had blood on her hands, but made no comment. From what she could see of the square, everyone who wasn't mortally wounded had been helping with those that were.

"I ran off," Adena admitted. "I couldn't take it anymore. All the blood and death, it was just too much for me."

Clara let go of her, and there was a very strange look on her face. It took Adena a moment to realize that it was fury, fury such as she had never seen on her friend's face before. It was a little startling.

" _It was too much for you?"_ Clara hissed. "Since when have you been so weak? I lost them too! I had to see all the people we knew die, and Morna and Leary-" Clara stopped for a moment, tears choking her voice. "But I stayed, Adena. They still needed help. What gives you the right to run off? You think that because you were chosen by that egg, you are special? That you're _better_ than everyone else now?"

"No-" Adena started, horrified. She had never heard such raw fury and viciousness in Clara's voice. Nor had she ever seen such pain in her eyes. This was a different person from the girl she knew so well, and it scared her.

Before Adena could even finish protesting, a scream rose in the air as a wounded woman's wound was cauterized. Clara glared at Adena.

"Come help me. We'll discuss this later."

Adena sighed, a terrible weight settling on her chest as she followed her friend towards the wounded. It was not the difficult, heartbreaking work that made her despair. It was the thought of the rift between her and the one person that she thought she could always count on to be her friend. On top of all of the other terrible things that had happened recently, Clara's hatred made Adena feel like the world was under some terrible spell, and everything that she had known was gone and had been replaced with something terrible and different.

She had achieved her dream. She had become a dragon rider, as she had always wanted. But Morna and Leary, along with so many of the people she had known all her life, were dead. Clara hated her, for the moment at least. When the grisly work before her was done, she would have to pack up what few belongings she would need in the future and leave her home forever.

It suddenly seemed to Adena that the fulfillment of her greatest wish had not been worth it. But she could not change the past, only suffer through the present and hope for a brighter future. So she went to work, trying to do anything to keep the weight of her grief from crushing her.

Author's Note

Hello! Sorry that this took almost TWO MONTHS to publish. Exams are evil, and family vacations don't help either. I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, but at least it's _finally_ done.

Veor Hrdenda: I agree about Morna and Leary. They weren't actually originally in the story when I planned it, but then I realized that my original plan didn't work and I had to change it last minute. But since it wouldn't work if they were still there, I had to kill them off. I would have prefered to keep them around long enough for them to be worth while as characters. Thank you for the comment!

MysticFire101: I'm glad you like the story!

Scarlett Barnes: Thank you! I know that Clara is a bit boring, but she'll improve as time goes on. I hope you like the rest of the story.


	6. A Beginning

The sun was setting, but no one in the village was thinking about going to sleep. It was three days after the attack, and there was still too much work to be done. The wounded still needed assistance and the graves for the dead had to be dug. The work was endless. The younger children had been sent out of the village with a few adults to look after them. They were staying on the nearest farms. Everyone else had to work.

Adena still felt that she was walking in a haze. Nothing seemed quite real to her. She kept the silver egg in a bag, so that she could keep it with her always. If this had happened at any other time, she knew that everyone would be crowding around to her to see the egg, to touch it. But no one cared. Not anymore. No one cared that a girl had been chosen. No one cared about the strange light the egg emitted. The tall elf had told Adena that no egg had glowed like that before. He had also told her that his name was Fódhr. Since Clara had no desire to speak to her, Adena found that she was spending more and more time in Fódhr's company. He was certainly different than anyone she had ever known.

It did not take Adena long to realize that the differences between elves and humans were much more pronounced that pointed ears. They were powerful, she had seen plenty of evidence of that. She also learned that they were quite different in their mannerisms. They were very reserved, at least compared to humans. They were very polite, but they had a tricky way of saying things that made it quite clear they were implying much more than their meaning. Some of the villagers got quite annoyed with the elves' way of speaking, and nerves already stretched to the breaking point had a tendency to snap. Adena was also quite impressed with the way the elves' handled these outbursts. They remained calm, and never resorted to fistfights unless they had no choice. Thankfully, the aggressors were usually calmed down before anything could happen.

Clara had not spoken to Adena since her outburst except when their work required them to communicate. And then she spoke in a hard, uncaring voice such as Adena had never heard before. Around everyone else Clara was quiet and sad, but still polite and kind. Perhaps a few people wondered why the two sisters who were never seen apart refused to speak to each other. Or perhaps everyone was too preoccupied to notice. They certainly had enough on their minds.

Adena discovered Clara crying that night. Aindreas, the boy that had so admired Clara, whom she had been planning on bringing the bouquet of tiger lillies to, had died. He had been wounded in the battle, but had managed to survive up to this point. Clara had been there when he finally died. Adena had not, but she had heard about it.

Clara did not object as Adena sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. After several moments, she leaned her head onto Adena's shoulder. They sat there in quiet mourning for a while. Adena looked up between the buildings at the stars. They winked at her knowingly, or at least it seemed so.

"I'm sorry," Clara whispered. "I have been unkind these past few days. It wasn't your fault. I just felt like I needed to blame someone."

"No," Adena told her. "You were right. I was weak, and I wasn't there when our people needed my help. You are so much stronger than me."

"At least you stayed to fight."

"An idiotic move, really. If the guards hadn't finished off most of the soldiers, I probably would have died."

Clara sighed and pulled away. Adena felt a momentary twinge of panic, afraid that Clara had changed her mind about forgiving her. But she was relieved to see that Clara's expression was not angry.

"We should get going," Clara sighed. "I don't think we have time to be loitering around. There is still so much work to be done. Graves to be dug…" She sniffed and wiped another tear away with the back of her hand, then reached down, offering her hand to Adena.

Adena grasped the outstretched hand and stood up. The two girls stood and looked at each other for several long moments, but they were not uncomfortable. They were both aware that their friendship had been reforged, and were grateful for the fact. Everything had changed, and more changes were coming. Adena knew that there was no one she would rather have at her side than Clara. She may be naive at times, but her heart was kind, and she sometimes showed a remarkable level of perception. It had also amazed her just how strong Clara was when faced with adversity.

The two girls were intercepted by Fódhr before they reached the house that had been converted into a makeshift hospital. He looked tired, probably because of the amount of magic he had been performing recently. The elves had been able to save many lives with their magic, but there were too many wounded for them to heal.

"We will be leaving for Ellesmera in the morning," he told Adena. "We have done all we can here, and it would be unwise to tarry when a young dragon is about to hatch. You should return to your home and gather up any possessions that you wish to bring with you."

Adena glanced at Clara. She was paler than usual, and was staring at the ground as if there was something very interesting there. Adena bit her lip. She had been toying with an idea for the past two days, ever since she got over the shock of the battle and was able to think moderately clearly. The fact was that Adena was going to leave, and it was highly unlikely that she would ever live in her old home again. The thought saddened her, though she supposed that there wasn't really a place for her anymore, not since Morna and Leary had died. The farm would belong to her, since she was the elder of the two adopted sisters. But she was leaving, and Clara could not very well take over the farm.

In truth, Clara had never taken to farm life. She had been happy enough, but she spent as much time as she could in the village. Because it was not far away and the farm itself was not large, this had never been much of a problem. Clara had to help sometimes, but the tasks given to her were not hard. Clara was not very strong, and was sometimes honestly lazy. Household chores were not a problem for her.

The problem was, Clara could not run the farm. She would receive help from others, naturally, but many families had lost somebody, and some had lost more. Everyone would be working hard, and whatever help Clara might receive would be insufficient. Nobody would buy the land because everyone was too busy with their own. The King would probably send help to the village, but that would still not be enough. Beyond the problem of the farm, Clara would also be alone. Her friends would not have time for her. Adena was the only family she had.

So Adena had made up her mind to ask Fódhr if Clara could accompany her. She hadn't had time to ask Clara, but from the look on her face, Adena knew that she would choose to come. Doubtless Clara had wondered about her future. Turning to the elf and taking a deep, steadying breath, Adena made her request. She laid out the reasons for it, hoping that Fódhr would understand. As Adena talked, Clara's expression went from confused, to joyous, and finally to desperate and hopeful.

Fódhr remained silent for several moments after Adena had finished. He appeared to be deeply in thought. After several tense moments, he spoke.

"I had wondered when you would ask this. I suspected you might. You are not the first to ask if your loved ones might accompany you. That wish has never been granted before." Adena's heart dropped, her hope shattering. "It is difficult for a non-rider to live happily among riders and elves. As we endure, they inevitably get old. It is difficult for them to live among people who are so powerful. It is hard for the rider, as they have to continue on as the people they care about pass. It happens to every rider, but loved ones being present makes it much harder."

"Please," Clara begged. "She's right. I won't be able to live here anymore, and I had nowhere else to go. If I stay, I will have to rely on other's charity, and no one wants to be looking after me. Not now, of all times."

Fódhr sighed and stared pensively at them, his sharp eyebrows drawing together. "I have considered it already. I only wish to make sure that you understand the consequences of your actions. Clara, you must know that it will not be easy for you. Adena, you must understand that if she comes, you must not forget her amid the chaos of becoming a rider. She will be in an alien environment, and she will not be able to fit in as easily as you. Are you sure that you want this?"

Adena and Clara glanced at each other. Adena had not considered the points that Fódhr had brought up. She had not even considered the fact that she would have a longer life than Clara. Her heart dropped. Clara was everything she had now. How could she watch her grow old and die?

"It's your choice," she told her softly. She wanted Clara to decide. It was Clara who would have to live among elves and Riders as an ordinary human. Yes, people had thought that Clara might have elven blood, but even if it were true, Adena doubted that there was much.

Clara nodded determinedly. "I want to go with Adena. I have no life here. I can't farm, and I'm too young to marry."

Fódhr inclined his head. "If that is your decision, then I will not object. I admit that these circumstances are unique. You are sure?" Clara nodded, though she looked slightly worried. Fódhr was frightening her a little, Adena could see that. Before the elf could cause Clara any more discomfort, Adena took her hand and led her off.

"We should go and collect whatever we need to bring," Adena told her. "When we come back we can help with the wounded."

Clara nodded, and they started back home. Although, truth be told, it wasn't a home without Morna and Leary. It didn't seem possible that when they arrived back, they wouldn't be there. Leary would be out in the pasture, looking after a sick calf or mending the fence. Morna would be milking the cow, or feeding the chickens, or pickling vegetables for the winter. They had always been there whenever Adena and Clara returned home from town, whether they were on errands or merely having a rare day off from farm work. Their deaths still didn't seem quite real to Adena.

When they arrived at the farm house, neither was quite sure of what to bring. As they didn't know what would happen to the farm, they weren't sure of what needed to be brought out. They also had no idea about how much the elves would provide for them when they reached Ellesmera. Eventually, Adena took a change of clothes, a warm cloak, her bow, and a carved dragon that Leary had made for her.

Clara was less decisive. She would pack almost all of her possessions, then change her mind and get rid of most of them. Then she would decide that there were a few things that she couldn't leave behind and add a few more until she had too many items again. This continued for about half an hour until Adena finally grew too frustrated and packed for her. The end result was that Clara had much the same items as Adena. Extra clothes, a cloak, and her own carving from Leary. This one was of a rose. Adena felt a lump rise in her throat as she remembered all the dark winter nights they had spent around the fire, Leary whittling on his latest project and Morna scolding him about the wood shavings all over the floor.

Clara added a necklace that Morna had given her on her last birthday. It was from Morna's dowry, an ancient family heirloom. The metal was lovingly polished, and the little medallion was still shining brightly. Clara had always thought that it would be her own dowry, and had decided that she would never wear it until she got married. But times changed, and she asked Adena to put it around her neck.

Both girls were holding back tears as they shut the front door. Adena quickly strode away from the house, unable to look back. She knew that if she did, she would be unable to stop herself from crying again. She had shed enough tears in the past day to last her a lifetime.

Clara did turn around. She looked back at the old farmhouse, aware that she would likely never see it again. Adena might, for she had many years in which to return, and a dragon who would be willing and able to traverse many miles with her. After memorizing every detail of her home, Clara turned and followed Adena. There were tears on her cheeks.

When they arrived back at the village night had nearly fallen. Despite this, both girls were up for several more hours. They helped with the wounded, replacing bandages and cleaning out infected wounds. At the edges of the village, Adena could hear the wails of mourners as they buried their family members. She couldn't help but wonder how many more people would be dead by the time she left. And how many people would make it through the winter? The season was a harsh one, especially as close to the mountains as they were.

It was quite dark before Adena and Clara finally went to sleep. A few villagers were still up, having slept through the day so that they could stay up all night, looking after the wounded. They were staying in the house of Taenna, the innkeeper's wife. Jarshet, the innkeeper, had died the day before. Taenna was still awake, helping with the wounded. She had opened up not only the inn, but their own rooms to those who had nowhere to stay. There were many people staying in the inn.

As the sun peeked up over the edge of the horizon, Fódhr came to wake the girls up. Yawning and rubbing sleep out of their eyes, they picked up their few possessions and followed the elf out of the inn. Adena touched the smooth surface of the egg. She was carrying inside her bag with her clothes. The cloth would hopefully prevent anything from damaging the egg, in case she dropped the bag or something similar happened.

The other guards were waiting by a cart that they had purchased from the villagers. Supplies were heaped onto it. Two sturdy draft horses that had probably belonged to a now-deceased villager were hitched onto the front of the cart. The fine-boned horses that the guards had brought were being held by three tired-looking children. Uncertain, Adena placed her belongings in the cart. Clara did the same, looking just as nervous as Adena felt. After a moment's consideration, Adena picked her bag up again. She didn't want to leave the egg on the cart.

The guards mounted up, the two girls climbing up onto their own steeds. Adena knew that both her and Clara's horses must have belonged to the deceased guards. The thought of what had happened to the animal's previous owner was saddening, but there was little these days that wasn't. The horse seemed slightly alien. It was a sleek, clearly expensive animal. Adena wondered if it was an elven horse. The thought was a little unnerving at first, but Adena soon grew accustomed.

The little procession moved off silently into the mists of early morning. Adena did not look back at the village, just as she had refused to look back at the farm. She would not forgot this place, not even if she lived for a thousand years. She knew every stone and tree, and she would remember them. But she did not want to say goodbye. She wanted to come back someday. When her training was complete, she would return. Perhaps she could live in the new outpost. This land was her home, and she couldn't imagine leaving it forever.

They travelled on for several hours. The sun rose and turned the gray, misty morning into a blazingly bright summer's morning. While they stopped for a light meal next to a small stream, Fódhr disappeared briefly. Adena had not noticed him leave, and when he returned he would not say what he had been doing. Adena dropped the question immediately when he turned his odd, penetrating gaze on her. She had the feeling that she would eventually find out what he had been doing, but not now. Annoying as it was, she knew better than to pursue the topic.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of vague monotony. The horses plodded along as calmly as fat old geldings. The guards rode either in silence or quietly chatted in groups of two or three. Adena and Clara rode as close together as they possibly could. Adena was a little surprised by how well her friend rode. Certainly, they had both ridden the old draft horses back home, but they had been old and placid creatures. Anybody could ride them. Adena had ridden on the one horse in the village that wasn't used for farming, which had been owned by an old man who used to be a soldier. There must have been something about Clara's gentle, soothing nature that made her horse respond well to her. The animal's training certainly played a role as well, but Clara's skill was still a surprise.

It was when they had stopped for the night that the trembling began. They had banked the fire for the night and everyone was lying down for sleep. Adena was sitting up and staring at the stars, picking out all of the constellations. They were so familiar to her. Would they be the same stars in Ellesmera? What about in the new land, the place that the Rider's had found?

The egg was sitting in Adena's lap, free of the bag. It was comforting to run her fingers over the mirror-smooth surface of the egg. She could stare at the twining, shining veins forever. She imagined that the egg would like to be in the open air. Even though the dragon was still inside the egg, it must have some idea of what was going on around it. Being stuffed in a bag with a pile of clothes couldn't be pleasant.

As the starlight fell on the silvery surface of the egg, Adena thought she felt a faint vibration under her fingertips. She looked down sharply, wondering if she had imagined it. Fódhr had said that the egg would begin to hatch within a few days. It _should_ be hatching soon. But was it only her mind, so desperate for it to finally happen, playing tricks on her?

The egg trembled again, more violently now. There was no question. Her heartbeat quickened. It was happening. All her life she had dreamed of this moment. The moment when her dragon would hatch. She remembered the story about how Eragon Shadeslayer had found Saphira Brightscales' egg, and how it had hatched. Had the tale been overly romanticised? The stories had told of a blinding flash of light and flames that had licked over everything, but burned nothing. There had been a great crash of sound and spears of lightning raining from the sky. The dragon had emerged from the splinters of the shell like a phoenix from the fires of rebirth and the rider had touched it upon its brow. That touch had given Eragon his Gedwey ignasia, and had triggered another explosion of flames and lightning.

Adena certainly hoped that the bards had been exaggerating. As impressive as that sounded, it seemed a bit terrifying. And loud.

The egg lurched once more and rolled out of Adena's lap. She grabbed for it quickly, afraid that it would roll away and be damaged. As she touched it, a crack formed on the surface. She snatched her hands back, terrified. Her breathing hitched in her chest as she stared at the crack. There was a faint rustle of movement in the blackness of the crack. Then there was a short pause. Time was frozen as both egg and girl sat in utter silence.

Then a light began to filter out of the crack. At first it was only a glimmer, then it began to grow brighter. Soon it was a blinding glare, and Adena had to shield her eyes. There were sleepy murmurs from behind her, but Adena did not care if the others woke. The light reached an unbearable intensity. She could not see the egg in the center of the blaze, but Adena could hear the egg splitting open farther. From muffled thumps, she gathered that small pieces of the egg were falling away from the rest. A faint rustling heralded the arrival of the hatchling.

The small glen that they were camped in was flooded with the brilliant silver light. The center was shifting as the dragon pulled itself out of the egg. Squinting against the glare, Adena tried to make out any features of the creature. It had finished pulling itself free. It lifted its tiny head and looked up at Adena.

The the intensity of the light made her eyes burn with pain, Adena stopped squinting and looked back at the dragon. The light emitted from every inch of the creature. Its eyes, glowing a bright, electric blue, met Adena's. They stared at each other for a moment. Moving almost against her will, Adena reached out a hand to touch the dragon. Her fingers connected with the delicate, scaly head. The light flared up until it was as bright as the sun, and Adena felt a river of ice coursing through her veins. Gasping, she collapsed.

Author's Note

That was another long wait… Sorry… I have no excuse…

For anyone who is wondering why this egg's hatching was so different from Saphira's, there is a reason. It is important later in the story.

Scarlett Barnes: Well, now you know what Clara will be doing. I'm starting to wish I had left her in the village. That's actually a good idea. _Sigh… Too late now_ …


	7. The Silent Dungeon

There was always silence in the dungeons. You never heard people speak, or whimper, or scream, or laugh. The guards were silent as death. The prisoners remained quiet too, for they knew what the guards would do to them if they spoke. The torturing did not occur in the parts of the dungeon where prisoners were kept. There was a different area, the king's torture chambers. They were underground as well, but thick walls and considerable distance kept the screams from reaching the prisoners.

In the time that Valerie had spent in the dungeon, she had wondered why the king was so determined to keep his dungeons silent. She was not naturally a philosophical thinker, so she did not spend long on the mystery. Her conclusion was that it tormented the prisoners to be unable to speak, and to sit in the endless silence all day, every day. All day, every day, until you were brought to the torture chambers. Then the King Cadeyrn encouraged you to scream until your throat was bleeding.

Valerie had done this. Though she hated herself for her weakness, she had been unable to withstand the pain. The men working in the torture chambers knew their work. They knew just how to cause the most pain without killing you. They learned the ways that were best to hurt certain people. They knew what to say to a person during torture to torment their soul. That was their job. They knew about pain.

She sat in her small stone cell now. She cast an annoyed glance at her companion, who ignored her. He continued to scratch at the wall with the little rock, as he had been doing since he first came, about a month before. Valerie couldn't tell if he was trying to dig his way out or if he was just scratching the wall for fun. Either way, he was completely mad. She tried to block out the scratching noise, but the complete silence rendered that impossible. The guards had told the man to stop before, always in the same soft whispers. He did not heed them. Valerie had watched as they punished him. He was not tortured like her, but the guards were welcome to hurt any of the prisoners if they felt it necessary.

She had never tried to intervene on his behalf. He was getting himself into the trouble, after all. And she would only get herself hurt if she tried anything. She couldn't stop the guards. She was unarmed, weak from the scant food and blood loss, and always in pain. Every line that the torturers drew in her flesh with their razor sharp knives burned hotter than fire. So for months, she watched as the guards hurt the man over and over again. He still never stopped.

At first, Valerie was convinced that he was just a crazy old fool. But then one day she watched him more carefully. She had had a few days respite from torture and she was beginning to think more clearly. She had always known that it was foolish to underestimate your enemies or allies. She did not yet know which one this man was. But he had to be one. Everyone in life was either an enemy or an ally. She had learned that early on.

Now that her mind was clearer, she began to pay more attention to the man's actions. It quickly became clear to her that the man was not merely an old madman. It was certainly possible that something was wrong in his head, but she was sure that there was more to him than that. He kept on scratching at the wall, despite the many beatings he received. Valerie could see no reasonable explanation for his stubbornness. Nothing in his endless scratchings seemed to have any more purpose than to get himself hurt.

Maybe he was trying to have himself killed. That was a possibility, and he was certainly getting close. She was not the only one annoyed by his scratching. The guards were infuriated by his refusal to comply and by the incessant scraping noise. It was possible that they would disobey their orders and kill the man. The other prisoners, including Valerie, were also frustrated by the noise. And yet the man continued.

Slowly, Valerie began to see a different motive. Maybe he merely took pleasure from the knowledge that however much the guards hurt him, _he_ was still the one tormenting _them_. In that way, they had no power over him. He _allowed_ himself to be hurt by them. He _caused_ it. When they hurt him, they were playing along with his own plan. When they clutched their ears and glared at him for hours on end, he was the torturer and they were the prisoners. The man realised that they couldn't kill him. They had orders from the king himself to keep all prisoners alive unless he ordered them killed.

The guards couldn't go to Cadeyrn and ask him for permission to kill the man. The king would be infuriated that they had brought such a trivial matter before him. If they went against his orders, they would probably be maimed, maybe even killed. So the man kept scratching at the wall. Even if they beat him until every bone in his body was broken, he could still keep scratching the wall. He knew that his days were numbered, and he was an old man. Valerie saw that he wanted to live his last days on his own terms. In his own way, the man had achieved a freedom that no one else in the dungeon could get.

Valerie spent the night thinking over the new revelations. She did not sleep, finding that her mind simply would not settle. She had no exercise anymore anyway, so she was certainly well rested. On the days that she felt stronger, she would sometimes try to pace or perform exercises to prevent herself from turning into a weak skeleton like so many of the prisoners. It did not help much, but it made her feel better.

The next morning she was taken back to the torture chambers. As usual, she screamed in agony, cursed the names of her tormentors in the most foul language she could come up with, and absolutely refused to give them the information they wanted. At least, she hoped she did. When she was fully conscious she told them nothing. But as to what she said when she was delirious? She had no idea.

When she was returned to the cell, the old man was scratching at the wall. She slumped against the wall, her consciousness retreating deep inside herself as she strove to ignore the pain that threatened to drive her insane. She had no freedom, no pride, and no friends to miss her, but she still had her mind. She would keep that for as long as she could. When they took her will she would truly be lost.

The old man scratched the wall in a sudden spurt of haste. The noise grew louder, more insistent. Valerie heard them then. Several guards were moving down the hallway with the brisk steps they always took. They wore soft slippers when on guard duty in the dungeon. Their ordinary boots would make far too much noise. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Valerie guessed that these men were new. While their footsteps were soft and they uttered not a word, the sound of them drawing their weapons was obscenely loud in the quiet, echoey corridor. They had not yet mastered the art of drawing their weapons silently. Or if they had, they were too angry to do it correctly.

As the sound of soft footsteps grew nearer and the scratching on the wall grew more frenzied, something awoke inside of Valerie. It was something that had shut down inside of her weeks before, when King Cadeyrn's guards had defeated her. As the guards put the key in the lock, she looked up at them. That alone would be enough to get her beaten as well if the guards noticed. It was forbidden to stare at the guards when they entered a cell for someone else. Valerie had always followed that rule, just as she had followed the rule of silence.

Thoughts were spinning in her pain drunk mind. She never used to be a meek little mouse, always following the rules of lesser men. Cadeyrn was a lesser man. He was weak, and tried to make up for it in cruelty. So why did she bow to his orders? It certainly didn't save her from pain. She understood that sometimes it was necessary to pretend at subservience, if it could improve your position. She couldn't always keep her pride in check, though. She was bad at playing the humble servant.

If she had been given more time to recover, she would have been more cautious. She probably would have begun to form a plan. As it was, she was already so deep in pain that the thought of punishment held little fear for her. What more could they do to her? With that encouraging, if morbid, thought in mind, she did what was probably the bravest action of her entire life.

She stood and faced the guards.

They turned, one of them holding the old man. Blood was welling from a small cut on his forehead, where one of the guards had struck him with the pommel of his sword. The guard's eyes were wide and astonished. The very idea that a prisoner would have the audacity to face them was unthinkable. Yet there she stood, a tall woman with a face mangled by the cuts of many knives.

"Let him go, you dogs of Niawlri." Had Valerie's mind been clearer, she would have been able to remember a more colourful oath. As it was, the guards faces stiffened with anger at the insult. Comparing them to the mutated hounds serving the human's god of death and dishonor was apparently quite enough to enrage them. It helped that she had spoken in a loud, if not clear, voice. The echoes were still fading away as the guard holding the old man dropped him and advanced towards her, murder in his eyes. The other men followed.

Something that should have been a smile flitted across Valerie's face. Her mutilated skin made it appear much more like a grimace of rage. Her pride was restored. She was no longer a prisoner cowering in the corner. Just as the old man had freed himself, she had cast off her chains. She would not allow them to hurt her, or him. She would fight to the death, whether it be the guard's or her own. Never again would a man make her cower at his feet.

To say that Valerie was back to her old self would be a lie. Her pride and desire to fight had returned as she dodged the crack of a whip and kicked a man between the legs. But something was undeniably broken inside of her. Something of her humanity was gone. Not that it had ever been there, for she was not human. But there was a hole in her soul where her empathy used to be. Just because she had not been a particularly caring person did not mean that she did not feel remorse, pity, and love.

Valerie felt a companionship, a mutual understanding with the old man. They were two of a kind, though they could not look more different. For the guards she felt nothing but disgust. They were dogs, and she cared little for their motivations and lives beyond the dungeon. For the King she felt hatred. A strong, burning hatred such as she had never known before. Whatever happened now, she wanted him dead. She wanted to drive her blade into his gut and watch him bleed out slowly at her feet.

The only flicker of love left in Valerie was for her lost sister. How long had it now been since she had last seen her? She didn't even know the girl that had once been part of her family. The now-grown girl would certainly have no recollection of her older sister. Nevertheless, the lost child was all that Valerie had know. That child and the old man. They were her only friends, and she had never even spoken to either of them.

She had heard that the most dangerous person was someone with nothing to lose. That was a lie. The most dangerous person was someone who stood to lose what little they had left.

Author's Note

So I was having a little writer's block. I started out writing about Adena and her dragon, but I couldn't get anything done. So I just resorted to writing about Valerie. She is my cure for writer's block. Thank you for your patience!

: I'm glad you like it!

Scarlett Barnes: I said that I'll finish it, and I will. It might take a while, but I while do it! Thank you for your support.


	8. Eistir

Adena woke up with a throbbing headache. She groaned and shut her eyes, wishing that she could fall back asleep and not feel the pain anymore. But her head hurt to much to allow her to sleep again. When she realised this she also began to notice the tingling sensation in her palm. It took her several moments to remember what the pins-and-needles feeling meant.

Once she had remembered that, she leapt to her feet, heart pounding. There was a disgruntled squeak from somewhere around her stomach. Adena suddenly realised that a warmth had been there, and now was gone. She looked down at the ground by her feet and beheld a small silvery creature staring up at her with pale blue eyes. She blinked several times, trying to wrap her mind around it. The dragon, _her dragon,_ squeaked again. The faint silver glow emanating from its scales grew a little dimmer as it stared up at her. Unsure, Adena knelt down by it and reached out a hand.

At that moment she noticed the silver mark on her palm, just where she had touched the dragon. That was what had been tingling earlier. She regarded it for a moment, astonished at the fact that she actually had a gedwëy ignasia. She was actually a rider. All her life she had dreamed of it, and now it was coming true. The dragon was right there, sitting in front of her. It was every bit as beautiful as she had imagined, even though it was smaller than she had thought it would be.

She looked up when she heard soft footsteps. Clara smiled at her, but there was worry in her eyes. Adena smiled back at her. Her heart seemed to be swelling within her, and the joy was shining from her eyes with such fervor that the worry slipped from Clara's face.

"What are you going to name it?" Clara gazed at the creature in wonder. Adena raised her eyebrows.

"It?"

"I- Adena, I don't know its gender," Clara said hastily. Adena nodded, glad that Clara knew better than to talk about the dragon like a mere beast.

"I believe that she is a female." Adena and Clara looked up to see Fódhr standing next to them. Adena blinked, surprised at how quietly he had moved. "The examinations of the egg when it was first found suggested that the infant inside was female, though we could not be sure. Based on the bone structure I can deduce that she _is_ a female. As for its name, you require her approval before you decide."

"Isn't she too young to decide?" Adena glanced at the hatchling, who was currently attempting to scratch herself behind the ear. Her leg got caught in her wing and became more entangled the more she tried to get free. She fell over with a squeak of protest. Adena reached down and gently untangled her. Fódhr shook his head, smiling slightly.

"She can't choose her name, but if you touch her mind you can tell if she agrees. Be careful not to delve too deep into her consciousness though, for you can cause disruptions in the development of her mind."

"I need to touch her mind? But I don't know how, I've never been able to before. Am I just going to be able to now?"

"It will take time before you are capable of using your mind connection fully, but you will be able to touch her mind. After all, you are already connected. Just try."

She did try. She had no idea how to try, but she did. Some instinct led her onward, seeming to pull her out of her body and into the emptiness surrounding her. She felt the glow of Clara's consciousness. Her foster sister's thoughts seemed so familiar. The melody of her mind was sweet, but there was something there, something strange…

"Adena!"

She jumped, her mind retreating back into her body. Fódhr was holding her shoulders, staring sternly into her eyes. She blinked at him, confused. "I was-"

"You were in your sister's mind. The first thing you must learn about your mental powers are that you must use them wisely. _Never_ enter somebody's mind without permission except in an emergency. And it must be _extremely_ urgent. People's minds are their last sanctuary. We _do not_ invade that. You need to learn to control yourself."

Clara was staring at Adena in horror. Adena's stomach was clenched in a knot of disgust and guilt at what she had done.

"I-I'm sorry Clara. I didn't realise what I was doing."

"It's all right," Clara assured her, though she sounded shakey. "I think. Just promise you won't do it again."

Adena vehemently agreed to never do it again. She could only imagine how it would feel, to be without any defense, left completely open to somebody's inspection without any way to defend herself. More cautious now, she allowed her mind to open up to the world around her. She sensed Fódhr's mind. The strange strains of music coming from his mind were so fascinating and foreign, and it was with great effort that she pulled her mind away from him. She could vaguely detect the minds of the guards and even the animals around her, but they were almost invisible to her mind's eye.

She was beginning to get a headache from her work. The was new, and she wanted only to pull back inside of herself and build up the wall around her mind again. The feeling of being open to the world was beginning to scare her more than a little. But she continued to feel around with her mind until she sensed the consciousness of the dragon. It seemed so fragile. She could sense the jumbled emotions, a confusing tangle of instinctive feelings. She had sensed something different about the mind, other than its juvenility. There was indeed a connection between their minds, something strange and wonderful. It was intriguing, but Adena knew that she hold not delve too deeply. Instead, she tried to remember the name she had thought about giving to her dragon. It took her a moment, but eventually the name popped back into her mind.

Eistir was the name of a young woman from one of Adena's favourite stories. She was in the story only briefly, as a young star that had fallen from the heavens to the earth and acted as a guide to the lost travellers, a group of human villagers on a quest. The rest of the story was about the villagers fighting an evil warlord who commanded an army of monsters. They were attempting to rescue the their leader's sister, who had been stolen to be a bride to the warlord. They eventually defeated him and the story ended happily, as stories so often do.

Eistir had always seemed to be such a fascinating character. There was a strange longing about her, as if she didn't know where she belonged or what she was meant to do. She wandered around and helped other people, but she didn't know how to help herself. Perhaps Eistir's story was a little melancholy, but the idea of naming the shining silver dragon after the beautiful fallen star was so poetic that Adena couldn't resist. Unsure of how to proceed, Adena opened her eyes and glanced at Fódhr. As she did, she lost her concentration and her focus shifted back to her own mind.

"How do I think to someone?"

Fódhr still looked annoyed, but he responded readily enough. "Just think the words you wish them to hear. Remember, the dragon does not speak yet, so you will need to try to convey your meaning in feelings. If it accepts the name you will feel its answer."

Adena sighed, not quite sure that this would work. How was she supposed to convey to the dragon that she was asking about its name without thinking any words? Nevertheless, she reached out, determined to try. It took her a moment to find the dragon's mind again, but when she did she slowly allowed herself to connect to the mind. It was the strangest feeling, and she had to struggle not to delve too deeply. She frowned deeply, trying to focus on the name of Eistir. Words kept flitting through her head as she tried to explain, but that wasn't what she was supposed to do. She focused her thoughts and tried to get her message across. For a long time, the only emotion that really seemed to respond to her mental attempts at conversation was a vague feeling of puzzlement. After a time, recognition seemed to form, albeit a childish, uncomprehending recognition.

 _Eistir,_ Adena thought, trying to tell the little dragon without words that that would be her name. The dragon remained confused for a moment longer, then its mind drifted away from her, unable to maintain concentration. Adena gave up and returned to her own body. Fódhr raised his eyebrows, mutely asking how it had went.

"I couldn't make her understand." Adena put her head in her hands, frustrated. She was a Rider. She should be able to do this. What if she wasn't able to do this because she was a girl? What if she was too weak? She shook that thought out of her head quickly. Being a woman had nothing to do with it. Queen Arya was a woman, and a rider as well. Women were not weak. She was weak. It was her own fault. She could see that Clara and Fódhr were watching her, waiting for further explanation. She didn't want to speak to them. All she had ever dreamed of was being a Rider, and now she found out that she was too weak.

"Keep trying," Fódhr told her. "It is not a easy skill to master. You have made very good progress for one so inexperienced."

That should have calmed Adena down. Normally it would have. She did not have such a terrible temper, and was quite level-headed and logical. But the terrible events in the village and the shock of becoming a Rider had hardly left her in her right mind. Fury instantly welled up inside of her. What did he mean by that? That she had "made very good progress for one so inexperienced?" Was he calling her weak? It was one thing for _her_ to think it. Self doubt was normal and to be expected. But she would _not_ be looked down on by this elf! The dragon had chosen _her._ She was _clearly_ worth something, and something more than him, for _he_ had never been chosen as a Rider.

Normally Adena would never have thought such cruel things. But the anger fueled her to greater determination, for she would _not_ let that elf act as if she was a weakling. She clenched her teeth and set to work, moving around the fringes of the dragon's mind in an attempt to figure out how to communicate. She began to focus inward rather than at the dragon, becoming aware of the fact that

Clara recognized the look on her foster sister's face from the few times when Adena became really angry or competitive. She glanced at Fódhr, thinking that he had foolishly said the wrong thing, maybe causing Adena to make a mistake that would hurt someone. But when she saw the slight smile on the elf's face, she began to think differently. She felt a smile tugging at the corners of her own mouth as well. This elf was no fool, she could see that.

The moon was high in the sky when Adena finally succeeded. Her mind was gently brushing against the dragon's as she focused on the stream of emotions and images that she had been rehearsing for the past few hours. She had managed to convince one particularly intelligent beetle that its name was Cormak, but she wasn't sure if this would also work for the dragon. The first time she sent the message across, the dragon did not even react. However, the second time elicited a faint reaction. The third time prompted a feeling that Adena could only describe as agreement. Even if she was wrong and the dragon had _not_ agreed, Adena was done trying. She stared steadily down into the sleepy dragon's icy blue eyes.

"You are Eistir."

The dragon blinked once, then curled into a ball and fell promptly asleep. Adena looked at it for a moment, then nodded. That seemed to settle the matter. She laid back on the blanket she had spread on the ground and closed her eyes. The work she had done had drained her. She fell asleep almost instantly.

 _Adena gazed out over a windswept plain as she sat on a cliff with her back against a sturdy old tree. The leaves on the oak were golden and crimson. The air was crisp and cold. Winter would be coming soon. She had no cloak, and shivered a little, but the view as so beautiful that she did not want to move. It had been so long since she had been able to sit quietly and admire the view. How long? She couldn't remember._

 _The bow sat in her lap, reminding her that this was not over yet. Its dark wood contrasted sharply with the pale silver of her chain mail. The silvery bowstring glimmered faintly in the light of the setting sun. Adena didn't want to touch it. It was a fine bow, but she was so tired of fighting. So tired._

 _A faint smile lit up her face as she saw a familiar silvery figure swoop out over the forest, racing with three other young dragons. Eistir was taking advantage of the peaceful evening to play. It hurt Adena to remember how young the dragon still was. She should have had more time to play. She shouldn't have entered a war so soon._

Don't act as if you're so old and wise, _Eistir reminded her, hearing her thoughts._ You are only a fledgling yourself.

 _Adena smiled again. Yes, it was good to see her friend so happy. She wished this could just be over and they could go back to the way things used to be. She wished they could go home._

" _I knew you would be wistfully admiring the view somewhere."_

 _He sat down next to her with his usual easy grace. He could easily have been an elf with his fluid, graceful movements. But his ears were rounded, and Adena had rarely seen an elf with skin as dark as his. No, he was not an elf. Not that that mattered._

 _Adena turned around to face him. He leaned toward her, and his lips were warm on her's. Their fingers entwined, the two enjoying the ability to be near each other without having to worry about attacks or about anybody else seeing them. Eistir could see them, or sense them rather. She pointedly blocked off their connection. Adena didn't really care. The kiss ended and she sat back against the tree again, still holding his hand. She no longer felt cold. Him being there next to her was not enough to keep her warm, but it was enough to make her forget about the chill. A feeling pushed its way to the back of her mind, the kind of nagging feeling that you get when you know you should be remembering something but can't. She pushed the annoying feeling away. She didn't want to ruin her happiness._

 _The beautiful, perfect moment lasted for only an instant. Then there was a cry of warning, running footsteps, and the unmistakable sound of a sword being drawn. Adena jolted upright, yanking him up with her. She turned around to try and see what was happening, pulling an arrow from the quiver on her hip and nocking it as she did. But before she could find a target, before she could pull the bowstring back, she found herself staring at the bloody tip of a sword. It was protruding from his chest._

 _He stared at her, dark eyes wide with horror. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. The sword disappeared and he sank to his knees. Blood welled up from the wound and spilled onto his front. His gasp was painfully loud to Adena as he fell forward._

 _She screamed, pain ripping through her. It was a scream of denial, a scream of fury, a scream of grief. The world began to crumble around her. She looked up again, at the person holding the bloody sword._

 _Why had she ever trusted her?_

"Adena, wake up!"

Clara was shaking her. Adena looked up at her, drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. She had clearly woken her foster sister up with her screaming. The normally perfect red hair was sticking up all over the place. Red everywhere, just like the blood. Eistir was practically hopping up and down, squeaking with fear and excitement.

"What was it?"

"Nothing. Just a nightmare. I'm fine now. Go back to sleep."

Clara looked unconvinced, but went back to her sleeping mat. Adena stroked Eistir gently to calm her down. Her heart was still pounding. It had been so real. A memory came to her, the memory of a story. Hadn't it been about the departure of Eragon Shadeslayer from Alagaesia? Hadn't he seen it in a dream, like some kind of vision?

No. It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

Author's Note

Ooooh… The mystery…. What's happening? How long will it take to find out? Well, with the length of time it takes me to write, it will probably be a few millennia. Sorry, again. This wasn't even a very good chapter, and I am sorry. I just wanted to get _something_ done.

And guess what? MY FIRST KISS! That's right, this was the first time I have written a kiss. I don't normally do romance. I am not a romantic. This was kind of fun. I was having another case of writer's block until I got the idea to add the dream in. I basically live in a perpetual state of writer's block until I get a sudden burst of creativity and get a whole bunch done on my three big stories and finish five short stories.

I'm starting to wonder if I might need to split this story up into a trilogy or something, because I might end up having a lot of chapters. I guess I'll need to make them longer. Anyway….

Scarlett Barnes: Valerie is my favourite too… Adena should be my favourite, but she not. It's a problem. I'm glad you liked it!


	9. A History Lesson

Fódhr generally rode next to Adena and Clara. He would speak to them about many things, then turn silent for hours on end, watching the world slip by as they road across the plains between the Spine and Gil'ead. At first it was a little disconcerting to see someone become so completely silent, but Adena soon came to realise that elves were quite unlike humans in many ways. When he did speak, Fódhr would often seem to be saying one thing out loud, but meaning something entirely different. While Adena knew that humans did this as well, and had often done it herself, she found it difficult to understand what the elf truly meant when he never seemed to say what he actually thought.

While the two human guards would sometimes ride with them, and seemed friendly enough, the other two elves kept to themselves, sometimes talking together in the strange, lilting tongue that Adena now knew was the Ancient Language. The words rang oddly in her ears, and the sounds were so foreign that she felt a pang of horror when she realized that she would need to learn to speak the language fluently. She was excited to learn to cast spells, but it was just beginning to dawn on her just how much work that would actually require. She was not just going to become a Rider and turn into a wise, all powerful being over night anymore than Eistir was going to be breathing fire and eating whole deer by the next morning.

That being said, the dragon was growing quickly. She had been about the size of a squirrel at first, but after three days she was already the size of a large cat. She was also incredibly active. Trying to keep her quiet was like trying to hold a live fish in your hands; she was wiggle and squirm and squeal in protest. Adena quickly learned that she would often be scratched if she tried to hold the dragon in place. It wasn't that the young dragon _meant_ to claw her. It was just that Eistir's scales were becoming harder and sharper every day. The faint glow that emanated from within her had not dissipated since her birth, and continued to fluctuate depending on her mood. Adena often noticed Fódhr and the other elves watching the dragon with a faint look of confusion and almost… fear. They would glance away and pretend that they hadn't being looking if they noticed her watching them, but she saw enough to know that Eistir's sheen was more than just some unusual quirk.

They reached the Ninor River at high noon one day, and everyone was happy to stop and enjoy the cool water after so long on the dry plains. The plan was, as Fódhr explained to her, to follow the river south and continue on until they reached the lake of Isenstar. Following its banks, the would eventually reach the city of Gil'ead, where they would purchase more supplies for their journey. They would continue along the lake until they reached the forest of Du Weldenvarden. Whenever she had seen a map of Alagaesia, Adena had failed to comprehend just how _big_ it was. As Fódhr explained the length of time the journey to Gil'ead would take, she slowly came to understand that the world she had been living in was larger than she could fully comprehend. She could spend little time dwelling on this realization, however, as Eistir chose that moment to leap straight into the river, and Adena had to scramble to fish the struggling hatchling out.

Eistir appeared to have a fascination with the water, and she was continually attempting to squirm out of Adena's arms, however hard the girl tried to hold onto her. Eventually Adena gave up and let the dragon play in a shallow pool of water at the river's edge. She would pounce at ripples of light playing across the water's surface, and did not seem particularly put out when she couldn't catch them. There was always another to take its place. One profoundly idiotic minnow chose to wiggle its way into the little pool and the dragon immediately tensed up in preparation for a strike. One of the human guards wandered over to watch. The tip of Eistir's tail twitched, then she launched herself at her prey. Adena was actually slightly surprised to see that the dragon had caught it, and it was wriggling in her talons. The guard, who Adena remembered was named Claes, whooped in delight as the hatchling swallowed the minnow whole. Clara was wading in the river nearby, and she glanced over in concern.

"Won't she choke on a bone?"

"She's a dragon," Adena called back. "She can handle a minnow." The fearsome hunter did not appear to be choking, so Adena assumed that she had some way to deal with bony food. Eistir stiffened as another minnow, this only slightly smaller, darted into her little pool. A snarl wrinkled her lip, and she began to stalk it. Claes called his friend over and the two elves followed him. Within a couple minutes, the entire company was seated around the pool, watching the young dragon hunt as if it was the most exciting performance they had ever seen. In truth, it was a rather funny sight. Eistir seemed to enjoy the attention, and her hunting grew ever more daring and fearsome. Clara gave a noise of disgust and horror when the hatchling tore a minnow in half and flung one end onto the bank. Claes and his friend soon began to place bets on how long it would take Eistir to catch a troublesome fly, or if she would even be able to defeat a rather clever frog that happened to enter her territory. In the end she could not, and the frog escaped with its life, much to Clara's relief.

"He was such a clever frog, he deserved to live," she told Adena once Eistir had grown tired and everyone had dispersed. Adena snorted, but was not entirely sure that she disagreed. Leaning back and breathing deeply, she let everything that had happened in the past few days fade from her mind. If only this bright, peaceful day could last forever. As if in direct response to her thoughts, she heard Fódhr calling for everyone to saddle up and get ready to depart. Next to her, Clara flopped onto her stomach, pressing her face into the grass.

"Five more minutes…."

Adena laughed and tried to drag her up, but Clara flopped like a ragdoll, moaning loudly. Adena gave her another tug but couldn't hold her up. Clara flopped over on top of her, now giggling uncontrollably. Adena tried to push Clara off of her stomach, but the redhead would not budge.

"You are such a _pain,_ " Adena groaned, attempting to sound frustrated while laughing as much as her squashed diaphragm would allow. "If you don't get off of me, I am going to hex you."

"You can't hex anyone," Clara objected, opening one eye. "Besides, you wouldn't curse me. You love me too much."

"I don't love you," Adena sniffed, still trying to drag herself free. "You are a nuisance, and I would gladly turn you into a slimy little toad so that you could live happily with your husband, the very clever frog that did not get eaten."

"Oh, I couldn't possibly marry a frog. I don't have a dress to wear to the wedding."

"Toad's don't wear dresses."

"Maybe they do, and you just don't know because they don't invite you to their parties."

"I will have you know that I am the most popular party guest in all of the most fashionable aquatic social circles."

A shadow fell across them, and they both started and looked up. Fódhr was gazing down at them with his head tilted slightly to one side. He raised an eyebrow, and both girls quickly got to their feet. Adena felt oddly as if she should stand at attention.

"It's time to move." Fódhr turned to go, but Adena was sure she saw the corner of his mouth twitch, as if he was holding back a smile. An image filled her head of Morna berating her and Clara after they covered in mud and twigs from an unfortunate expedition into the mountains. She remembered Leary chuckling in the background and Morna pausing her lecture every minute or so to turn around and bark at him to stop sympathizing with the "witless ragamuffins." But when Clara had started earnestly explaining how they didn't _mean_ to get caught in the gully and certainly didn't mean to end up on a homemade raft that floated about as well as the boulders they couldn't steer it around, Morna had been struggling not to smile. It had been just the same expression as Fódhr's. A wave of homesickness washed over her. She walked quickly over to the rock where Eistir was sunning herself and scooped her up, much to the hatchling's squeaking protest.

Within ten minutes they were in the saddle once again and riding down the bank of the river. At least the air was cooler here, with the faint breeze picking up the air above the water and gently blowing it over them.

The days progressed slowly for Adena as they rode on. They woke up early every morning, ate the remains of whatever they had eaten the night before, rode until noon, then stopped for only the briefest of periods. Riding with a small dragon was at times a nightmare, but at least it relieved the tedium. Recently, Eistir had taken to riding on the top of Adena's head, which had been fine at first, but it was getting to be hard on her neck. And, as Clara helpfully pointed out, it was going to become difficult to carry the dragon on her head when she was the size of a horse. For the moment, however, Eistir would clutch at Adena's hair and get it thoroughly tangled, until she eventually flew down to the saddle horn to spread her wings and screech in victory. Over what, Adena was unsure. Clara and Claes, who now rode beside them along with his friend, would laugh at her bird's nest hair and chat about anything and everything.

They soon began to sing whatever songs they knew as they rode. Mostly they were the old ballads that everyone knew. The old tales, such as the Song of Gerand and the Fall of the Riders, and newer ones, mainly concerning Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Brightscales. These seemed to amuse Fódhr to no end, probably because he actually knew the subjects of the songs and was alive when the events actually occurred. Adena had always known that they were probably more myth than truth, but she didn't see anything wrong with that. They inspired people, and they had given her a dream which had miraculously come true. Every now and then, the female elf and her companion, who Clara firmly believed was also her lover, would begin to sing in the lilting tongue of the ancient language. Fódhr would close his eyes and listen quietly while the humans reacted in whatever way the music seemed to compel them. Sometimes Adena felt like weeping, sometimes she laughed, and sometimes she fell into a deep trance. Eistir would seem to glow in time with the music as if the words were plucking at the strings of her very soul.

The city of Gil'ead came into view as they neared the end of the third week of travelling. Eistir had been forced to stop riding on Adena's head when she tried to climb up one morning only to find herself and her Rider falling off the horse. As the group made their painstakingly slow way towards the lakeside city, Adena glanced at Eistir. The dragon no longer rode with her. She was almost as long as the horse, who seemed peculiarly unconcerned with the glowing silver creature loping at his side. Eistir was growing far wiser, though no less playful. She was not yet thinking in words such as Adena could understand, but the connection which was now constantly open between them provided her with a stream of images and impressions which showed the rapidly expanding mind of the young dragon.

Adena was not allowed to enter the city herself. Fódhr and the other elves did not think it wise for Eistir to enter the city, and Adena could not very well leave her alone. Clara offered to stay with her, but Adena told her to go. Neither of them had ever seen a city as big as Gil'ead, and there was no point in both of them missing out. Fódhr stayed with Adena and Eistir instead. The girl couldn't help but feel a little nervous about being alone with him. She had come to know him fairly well, but only in a distant way. He was so alien, and he never talked about himself. They sat around a fire by the lakeside as the stars grew bright in the sky and sent silvery reflections scattering across the dark water. Eistir was sleeping, her silver head resting on her paws. The dragon's silver light was pulsing faintly in time with the slow beat of her heart, and Adena happened to notice at that moment that her gedwëy ignasia often lit up in time with Eistir. She examined her hand for a moment, then grew bored and glanced up at Fódhr. He was sitting perfectly still and watching the ripples of water on the lake.

Adena did not mind sitting in silence normally, but when she was around Fódhr she felt as if she should say _something,_ if only because she knew he would never be the one to strike up a conversation. After an awkwardly long silence, she finally spoke up.

"Nuale isn't like human women." Adena was speaking about the female elf in the party. She wasn't quite sure where she wanted to go with this conversation, but it was the first thought that had popped into her head.

Fódhr raised an eyebrow at her. "That is because she's an elf."

"I-" Adena blinked, wrong-footed. "I mean… She acts differently from human women, and not just because she's an elf. You treat her differently too. Or not differently, I suppose. The same. The same as you treat anyone else. It's just…" Adena paused, unsure of herself and already regretting that she had brought it up. Instead of trying to finish her thought, she ducked her head and hoped her wouldn't think her too foolish. Fódhr remained silent for so long that Adena feared he wouldn't reply. After what seemed an age, he finally spoke.

"Humans have treated their women differently for as long as our two nations have known one another. We do not pretend to understand this attitude, but it is not our place to interfere with your social structure. But the way that human women have been treated for these past few decades has been… particularly disappointing. Human women used to be treated with more respect. Now they are degraded. You know of this."

"Why?" Adena looked up at him again, a little fascinated and a more than a little confused. "Why did it use to be different? What changed? Were there more female Riders before?"

"There were few human Riders of either gender before Queen Hiari ascended to the throne, and it was not long afterwards when the Prince Consort, _Thurl-_ " Fódhr spat the name like poison, "-began to spread propaganda which made it ever more difficult for women to rise in rank."

Adena had rarely seen him so angry. He was glaring into the fire, his long fingers twisting together and his knuckles whitening. After a long, uncomfortable pause, Adena carefully spoke up again.

"Why did he lash out at women?"

"Because he wished to discredit his wife's predecessor. Because he wished to lessen Queen Hiari's power and gain more for himself. Because he wanted to ensure that the people would support his son's claim on the throne. Because he was a cruel, hard man with a narrow mind who wished to assert his dominance over as many people as possible."

"Oh."

Fódhr glared at the fire and spoke with a soft, venomous voice. "The greatest crime which Prince Thurl was guilty of was his actions in destroying the legacy of Queen Nasuada. She was a hero to the people, and he did not like that. As long as the people told her story and honoured her, his crusade to make women appear weak and worthless could never succeed."

"Nasuada?" Adena vaguely remembered the name and the stories in which it had appeared. Hadn't she been a figurehead ruler, placed on the throne because she was so different from Galbatorix, as a woman and a mortal human? The stories said that the war had been won and the king defeated by Eragon Shadeslayer and King Orrin, and that the leader of the Varden had been nothing more than a pretty face and big words. More than a little afraid of the reaction she would receive, she told Fódhr of what the stories had said. He didn't react violently, which she had been slightly afraid of, but his eyes narrowed.

"She was no figurehead. Eragon Shadeslayer, while a brave warrior and a good man, was barely a Rider when the war came. He was young and inexperienced. Orrin was… difficult. He certainly would have failed to defeat Galbatorix had he attempted to lead the Varden himself. It was through Nasuada's work that the war was won. She personally fought in the Battle under Farthen Dûr, triumphed in the Battle of the Long Knives with nine cuts, and withstood Galbatorix's torture when captured. As Queen of Alagaesia, she united the disparate kingdoms and introduced the laws controlling magic in the human lands."

Adena did not know what to say. That one person could have done so much, though she wasn't quite sure what the Trial of the Long Knives actually was, and yet was not revered throughout the land seemed impossible. How could the actions of one man have so completely erased her legacy? Fódhr began to speak again, and Adena soon found herself lost in the story.

"Nasuada was unmarried when she ascended to the throne of Alagaësia. Many attempted to convince her to marry, but she said that there was no one that suited her. She was a duty-bound woman, and she knew that if her marriage could benefit the Empire she certainly would have found a match. Perhaps she did not search as hard as she could have. Perhaps her heart was… otherwise engaged. It is not my place to speculate. But after many years, Nasuada realised that she would need to provide an heir. She sought out the remains of her family and found a young woman who was closely related to her in blood. Hiari could not have been more different from her cousin. She was a gentle young woman, intelligent enough, but naïve. She was a romantic where Nasuada was a realist, but the Queen believed that Hiari showed the potential to become a great monarch.

"Princess Hiari lived in Ilrea with Nasuada for five years before the Queen's death. In that time, she did not progress quite as Nasuada had hoped, but neither did the lure of power take from her the gentle love of all people which had made the Queen choose her. She was well loved by the people, and would often go out into the city and give aid to the poor. She was a beautiful woman, and the young men at court sought her for more than just her power. One in particular strove to win her hand, whatever the cost."

"Thurl?" Adena asked hesitantly. Fódhr nodded and continued his story.

"He was the younger son of Lord Darroch of Teirm, who was the son of Lord Risthart. He was incredibly ambitious, and had decided that wooing the future queen was a better path to success than arranging his older brother's death. To his frustration, Hiari showed no interest in him. After a year of failure, Thurl seemed to give up his suit. It was only a few months after that the Queen Nasuada was assassinated. It was remarkable that anyone was able to get past her defenses, as if somebody from within the court had given the assassins very specific information. If only the witch-child had still been there, Nasuada need not have died. But she had vanished decades before." Adena didn't know who the witch-child was, but she didn't want to stop Fódhr to ask. "Once the queen was dead, preparations began for the Hiari's crowning, but everyone knew that she could not rule alone.

"Thurl came to her and told her that it was her duty to marry. He was a clever man, and Hiari was still grieving. She bent to his will, and they were married a month before the coronation. By the ancient law of the land, the primary ruler of the Empire would be the one with royal blood, so Hiari was still the true ruler of the humans of Alagaesia. Despite this, it was clear to most that Thurl held the power. Hiari did as he demanded and went where he told her, but she did object when he suggested that the law be changed. However hard he tried, Thurl could not convince her to change the law to prevent a female ruler from ascending to the throne. Without that power on his side, Thurl began to spread propaganda to strengthen the divide between men and women in the hopes that the people would demand that Hiari step down.

"It did not work, not entirely. There was no coup, but many humans listened to the messages that were being quietly spread, and they believed the words of the Prince Consort, though they did not know they came from him. The seeds were already sown in the minds of the humans from hundreds, even thousands of years of inequality. Thurl merely stoked the flames. You have seen the results yourself. Though he could not gain complete power for himself, Thurl fully intended to control the future of the throne. Among his words against women, he planted lies about the previous queen. Many remained loyal, but not all. With each passing year, more began to doubt the truth of what they had been told. By the time Hiari had been on the throne for fifteen years, most of humanity believed what Thurl had said, and saw the queen as what she was- a figurehead. They idolized the Prince Consort and saw him as their saviour. All Thurl needed now was a male heir to take the throne, but there he discovered a problem.

"Hiari had given birth to four children since she came to the throne, and each had died shortly after birth. Each had been a female, the last two a set of twins. Thurl was infuriated by this, as he needed a male heir to take the throne if he ever wished to change the law. The queen was told that the princesses were ill and could not survive, but in truth, three of them were fully healthy. The second born may not have lived for long, but we will never know." Fódhr stopped for a moment, his jaw clenched and his eyes burning. When he spoke again, it seemed to take a great effort. "Each time, Thurl had a vial of poison prepared before the queen went into labour. Each time, he secretly fed the child the poison. They died within minutes, and nobody investigated. After all, children often died young, and who would suspect a father of murdering his own children?"

Adena had to interrupt. "How do you know all of this? Shouldn't it be secret? How could anyone know?"

Fódhr smiled sadly. "I was once one of the elven ambassadors to Ilirea. I was deeply concerned by Thurl's rise to power, so I kept a close watch on him, and I gleaned what information I could from the servants, who needed little incentive to gossip. Much of what they told me was false, but I was able to sort the truth out from among the wild tales. I began to suspect foul play after the death of the second child, but was unable to prove anything until I examined the bodies of the twins in secret. By then it was too late. After seventeen years, Hiari finally gave birth to a son, who was named Regan. Ironically, he was a sickly child who barely survived his first few days of life. Thurl waited, raising his son to make him what he believed would be a powerful ruler. Having known the child personally-" Fódhr's lip curled. "-he was selfish and cruel, his every whim pandered to and his education sorely lacking."

Adena stared at the ground by her feet. She knew that the child Fódhr was talking about was now her king. Shouldn't she defend him? Shouldn't she be loyal to her monarch? But when she thought about it, the King had never done anything for her or her village, except collect taxes. And if it was true that Regan and Thurl were responsible for the difficulties she now faced as a female rider, then she could find no reason to be loyal to him. Fódhr continued his story, a frown still creasing his face.

"Thurl was finally able to put his plan into action once the Prince came of age. It was said that Hiari had grown ill, though none of the court physicians were able to say what the mysterious illness was, much less cure it. Perhaps Thurl had noticed that a number of the ambassadors from the other peoples of Alagaesia were growing increasingly suspicious of him, for he did not have her killed outright. She seemed to waste away, and no one could say that such illnesses were not common. I may have believed the story that was told, but I tracked down one of the physicians to be certain, and I was forced to examine his mind when he refused to speak with me. I discovered that he and his colleagues had been blackmailed into making a diagnosis which met with the approval of the Prince Consort. I went to the palace in an attempt to find someone, anyone, who would listen to what I had to say. It was in vain, however. Thurl's hold on Ilirea and her people was too strong, and everyone with the power to stand up to Thurl had been bribed or blackmailed into supporting him. I attempted to contact my own people, but by then I had been discovered. I was forced to flee Ilirea. Two days later, the news of the Queen's death was spread throughout the Empire.

"Regan's coronation took place not long after the Queen's funeral. Thurl continued to rule through him, and with his son in power he was able to change the laws to ensure that only his male descendants would ever take the throne, and he set to work completely obliterating what remained of Nasuada's legacy. His reign did not last much longer after that, however. Thurl himself fell ill a year after his son's coronation, and died shortly after. Since that time, his son has reigned alone, and the Empire has suffered for it." Thurl stopped speaking abruptly and stared very intently into the fire. Adena waited to see if he had anything more to say, then cautiously spoke up.

"Why have you been permitted to work among humans once again after you were forced to flee Ilirea? I would have thought that you would be forced to go into hiding."

The elf's lips twisted into a crooked smile. "I should tell you that Fódhr was not the name given to me at birth, nor is the form you see the one that I assumed years ago, when I lived among humans. I changed both in order to continue to work with your kind. I have ever been far more comfortable among humans than among my own kind. However hard I try to remain as distant as my kind habitually are, I have a tendency to get over excited." He paused and rubbed his chin ruefully. "When you asked me about Nuale, I did not intend to embark on a long narrative of the recent history of the human monarchy, but I have ever lacked self-restraint."

"I don't mind. It's better than sitting in silence, and I want to know my people's history, especially when it has such an impact on my own life."

Fódhr nodded. "And that is why I prefer the company of humans. I am something of an irritant to most of my own people." He seemed to decide that he had said far too much for the time being and lapsed into silence. Adena was left sitting against Eistir's shining back and thinking. Thinking about Nasuada, Hiari, Thurl, and Regan. Thinking about Fódhr. And, as the stars grew ever brighter in the sky and Eistir's glow grew brighter to match them, thinking about her own future. A tendril of thought tickled at the back of her mind, and she felt Eistir's sleepy amusement and slight annoyance.

 _Sleep._ Adena turned her head to gape at the dragon. Eistir had opened one eye to stare at her, a sliver of blue gleaming among the pale silver scales.

 _Did you just-_

 _Sleep,_ the dragon told her, more forcefully this time. Adena wanted to discuss the fact that Eistir had just spoken to her for the first time, but the eye had closed and the pressure of her thoughts eased as the dragon drifted off to sleep once again. Adena looked up and caught Fódhr's eye. He raised an eyebrow and she shrugged, deciding to tell him later. Clara and the others would be back soon, but for now, she was tired. She yawned so hard her jaw cracked, briefly wondered if Eistir's sleepiness made her sleepy, then curled up against the dragon and closed her eyes.

She did not see the way that the starlight seemed to stick to her skin as if magnetically attracted, but Fódhr did, and a faint frown creased his face.

Author's Note

I'm not dead. Very nearly, but not yet. I'm sorry that it took a year. But, to be fair, I did get the chapter plan completely done, and I overhauled three of my original stories and started two more. I was kind of productive. Just not on this. I will get faster when I get to the later chapters. This one wasn't very good and was kind of dull, but they will improve. I hope.

Guest: Adena would probably love to do that, but unfortunately she doesn't spend much of the story in Alagaesia. We'll see, though. Maybe someday.


End file.
